Funhouse
by Crowdreamer
Summary: Olivia gets embroiled in a prostitution ring. In the race to save her, will Tucker or Elliot get to her first?
1. Chapter 1

_Comments: Angst, EO. This story about sums up how I'm feeling after this election._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter One

Olivia Benson stared at the gun pointed at her head. She had not expected this. Her heart pounding, she said, "You can't do this. I'm a Lieutenant, head of my department."

She came to this hotel room to meet with Jim Groves, a handsome bald man who towered over her, even though she was tall for a woman. He was the Police Commissioner, recently appointed by the new mayor. She had expected to speak to him about some discoveries she had made about certain police officers suspected of being a part of a sex trafficking ring, and the scandal appeared to go higher than just a few isolated individuals.

The entire ordeal brought back memories of a related scandal last year, which had reached all the way up to judges, district attorneys, politicians and high-level clergy members. Barba's life had been threatened.

But this new commissioner seemed interested in helping catch more of the corrupt officers involved in the ring, and had invited her to this hotel room, which had been rented out for a sting operation set to happen later in the evening. Barba wasn't here yet, which surprised Olivia. He should have showed by now. But maybe he didn't know how important this meeting was, because she hadn't yet told him the names she had uncovered—one of them the Captain of a police division in upper Manhattan.

As soon as she arrived in the room, she sensed something was amiss. The room had been used. There was trash everywhere, and the bed sheets were a mess. Groves sniffed and shook her hand at first. "What do you have?"

"Maybe we should wait for Barba first."

"He's late. We have to get this operation moving. Give me the names so I keep eyes on them."

She sighed in irritation. "I think we should wait until we can figure out how we're going to jointly handle this. We're not going to just hand over what we have…"

That was when he had pulled a gun on her.

They stared at one another, and she reminded him that she was the head of SVU. Her voice remained soft yet fierce. "People aren't going to just accept that I didn't show up for work. They're going to come looking for me. What on Earth are you thinking? You think you can really get away with…what? Are you planning to just get rid of me?"

He smirked, his eyes narrowing. "No, we have other plans for you. Now hand over the names."

Her hand shook as she handed him the file. Her voice low, she said, "You're not going to get away with this, Jim. They're going to know what happened. I told Barba I was coming here—"

"Wrong. We intercepted the e-mail, and Barba wasn't the one who responded to you."

She did a double take at this new information. "But they'll figure it out. Just let me go and your secret is safe."

"Nah." His lips pressed tightly together. "There were some people in the mayor's office very upset about the way you went after other officials. They want revenge."

She shook her head and whispered, "This is ridiculous."

"Hugo," Groves yelled toward a door to the adjoining room. A hefty man with tattoos covering his bare forehead emerged, and the man approached. "Take Ms. Benson to the other room and prepare her."

"For what?" she gasped.

"The mayor wants to use you as a prize. We can draw in people who want to get back at you. There are many who would pay a good price."

She gulped. _Price for what?_

Hugo slapped handcuffs on Olivia's wrists while Groves watched, the gun still nestled against her head. Then Hugo led her into the adjacent room, where a bed awaited. Lingerie lay on the bed, and her stomach tightened as she began to understand. And with understanding came dread, and she backed up, shaking her head. "No. I won't do this."

Groves stood in the doorway, preventing her retreat. "You have a choice, Lieutenant. You can do this, or this girl's life ends today. Then he yanked a teenager into the room with her, and Olivia saw that this girl couldn't be more than thirteen years old, her terrified eyes imploring Olivia.

She felt ashamed that she hesitated, but it was just for a moment. "Okay," she said. "I'll do it. Just don't hurt the girl."

She sighed. This was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done, but she would do it. She would be a prostitute. All the while, she would hope and pray that someone from her squad would find her before she had to go through with it.

Hugo unlocked her handcuffs. Groves continued to hold his gun to the young girl. Trembling, Olivia slid off her suit jacket, and then tried to unbutton her blouse, but her hands shook so bad she could hardly get the first three. Hugo got impatient then and reached his burly hand onto her blouse, ripping off the rest of it. She startled.

Then she closed her eyes and finished stripping off the rest of her clothes while three other people watched. She sucked her lips in between her teeth, trying not to think about the humiliation she felt. And then she put on the black silky bra and the lacy g-string. "Damn," said Groves, leaning into her close enough that his breath swirled in her ear. "You're even hotter than I imagined."

He ran his free hand down the side of her nearly-naked body, and she recoiled silently. "Hey, it's okay. We'll get our time later. Promise I'll be gentle."

Tears wanted so bad to flow freely, but she held them in by biting her bottom lip. "Hugo! You want to go first?" Groves said jubilantly.

"Nah," said Hugo. "I better save her for the top brass. They're going to want first dibs."

A knock interrupted their conversation. "Oh, that's probably Judge Wheeler."

"Wheeler?" Olivia said, her voice wobbly. She had played a large part in his indictment for sex with an underage prostitute, but he had pled out and gotten a slap on the wrist as punishment.

Now he was back to avenge her pursuit of him. "Lock her to the bed," said Groves.

Hugo yanked her to the bed, and she grunted at the pain in her wrist. He locked her hand to the bedframe post, and the door clicked as Groves let in the visitor.

Olivia wanted to pull the bedsheets over her, and her hand groped desperately at the edge of the blanket. Wheeler entered the room, smiling broadly. "Olivia Benson. I've been looking forward to fucking you over the way you did. Are you ready?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Comments:_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Two

Olivia gulped in deep breaths, trying to calm her shaking body and racing heart. Judge Wheeler— _Judge Wheeler!—_ took off his pants, exposing his bulging hard-on. His shirt went next, and then he lay next to her and slid off his underwear. Her instinct was to curl away from him, and wait for him to touch her so she could shower him with punches. But the girl was still in the room—sitting in a chair in the corner, waiting for Olivia to make a choice whether or not to save her life.

Wheeler's erection pressed against her leg, making her want to throw up. Now he forced himself on top of her, laying with the full weight of his body on top of her. "This is going to be fantastic. I always thought you had sexy thighs. But you hardly ever wore skirts in my courtroom."

He caressed her hair, and she lay completely still, hoping he would back out of this. Then he pressed his lips against hers, and she knew he wouldn't leave here without getting what he came for. She moaned her disapproval.

"What's the matter? You act like you're not having fun. I know what will cheer you up."

With that, he pried her legs open. She tensed every muscle. Then he consumed her with his body, owning her in every way, probing her breasts and her mouth, forcing her insides to accept him. She lay unmoving on the bed, shocked that this was happening. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she slammed her eyelids shut so he couldn't see the devastation.

Low, shallow sobs wracked her lungs. He quickened his pace, and she hoped he would be done soon. His breath quickened and matched hers, and then he thrust three times, hard, and collapsed in a heap on top of her.

She was so cold. Too cold. Thin shivers deepened into full-on tremors, her body shaking uncontrollably. She had been forced to accept a man into her body, and now she knew the trauma that all the women she helped had suffered. If someone punched you or pushed you or kicked you, there might be physical wounds and fear. But when someone penetrated you, it left you feeling like your body wasn't your own, like every cell and every organ was now disgusting and dirty. It made you want to scrub your own skin off and discard it, knowing that the filth would still remain because it had infested you like a parasite.

Wheeler got up unceremoniously and put back on his clothes. Then he left.

Olivia rolled into a fetal position, blocking out the rest of the world by departing into a trancelike daze. Sleep—she had to have sleep— and then she could escape the nightmare of her memories. But as soon as she began to doze off, she became aware of movement in the room again, and her eyelids snapped open.

Hugo stood at the door, then entered, and before she had time to panic about what he might do to her, a large bearded man in a flannel shirt and jeans appeared behind him. Hugo slapped her on the thigh and said, "Look alive. You have another visitor."

She shook her head vigorously. "No," she croaked. "I can't."

"Not a choice, Sweetheart. This is one of the police officers you locked up. Just got out and he's pissed and horny."

The girl whimpered in the corner, reminding Olivia of her choices. But she couldn't bear the thought of being violated again.

She looked through narrowed, swollen eyes at the man. "Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

The guy came down on her, his fist like a sledgehammer on her cheek. She grunted. Hugo stepped in. "Hey! Not the face, dude. We have to keep her looking good for the rest of the clientele. Don't ever harm the merchandise."

The officer still glared at her, his fist balled up, but he said through his teeth, "I'll do my best."

And then he mounted her, telling her all the ways she would pay for making him do time. She tried to brace herself, but nothing could have prepared her for the brutality he inflicted. Seconds felt like hours, and by the time he was done, she couldn't tell if it was the dead of the night or broad daylight, nor did she care. He left her crumpled on top of the sheets. She lay still, head tucked against the pillow, eyes closed, unable to form a thought.

She thought she had surrendered to the violence now, but when a third man entered the room—someone she recognized as a councilman—her chest heaved. "No, please," she whimpered. I'm too exhausted."

But he pulled off his pants and climbed on her without hesitating, and she felt as if her soul died in that moment.

Elliot Stabler sighed as he got ready to enter the precinct. He hadn't been back here in six years, and he hadn't expected to ever walk through these doors again. But Fin had called and asked him to meet, so here he was.

Inside the precinct, he saw his former partner's face welcoming him, and he held out a hand. Fin took his outstretched hand in his own, but he wasn't smiling. "Hey man," he said. "I'm relieved you could make it. I want to introduce you to Rafael Barba, our ADA."

A snappy-looking Hispanic man greeted him, his eyes darting in desperation. "Let's go in here," he said, pointing to Captain Cragan's former office.

They entered, and Elliot looked around at the changes in the room. He examined a picture on the wall of Olivia in formal uniform. "Is that…?"

Fin nodded. "Yeah, Olivia made Sargent. She's in charge now."

Elliot's eyebrows shot up. He had left so quickly and never looked back, but he could never forget his. He had an unexpressed love for her that was never allowed. Now he felt even more ashamed for leaving than usual—he had never even called to keep up with her life. She could have been dead and he would not have known.

Dead. He shuddered. Kathy had died suddenly last year in a car crash, and her death had shook his world apart. Since then, he had poured himself into his work and his family, hoping to block out morbid thoughts. He had thought about Olivia many times over the months, but kept putting off calling her. He didn't want to seem like a dog crawling back with his tail between his legs.

But Fin had called him yesterday, saying, "How soon can you get here?"

As an FBI agent, it was hard for Elliot to get a free moment. "Fin, I'm busy. Can you tell me what this is about?"

"It's about Liv. She's missing."

That had been enough to get Elliot in his car, speeding away from his home in Albany, New York. Now he stood, staring at her picture, panicking about her safety.

"Okay, what can you tell me?" he said.

Fin started. "She didn't come into work a couple of days ago. Her cell phone was dumped in the East River, and we checked all the places she might have gone. Tucker says she never came home from work that day."

"Tucker!" Elliot glared at Fin. "What the—?"

Fin averted his eyes. "Sorry, man. I thought you knew. They're…romantically involved."

Elliot decided to cut through the crap. "Living together?"

He knew he was right when nobody answered.

"Nevermind. I don't care. Do you have _anything_ that would help us?"

"We got nothin'," said Fin.

"Nothing but speculation and conspiracy theories," said Barba. "Olivia spear-headed a sting operation that caught several high-profile individuals, politicians and law enforcement officials. Needless to say, there are a lot of people who would like to see her head roll. Sorry for the imagery," he added quickly.

"That's why we called you, El. We thought you could help, with all the resources at your disposal," said Fin.

Barba added, "There's an ongoing federal investigation into another massive sex-slave ring here in New York. The feds have a few people sitting on it. But they won't share with us."

"I'm on it," said Elliot. He shivered, wondering what kind of danger Olivia might be in, and whether he would ever see her alive again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Comments: This story is titled after Pink's song by the same name. And I promise, it's going to get real good, real soon._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Three

Olivia stared at the ceiling. She had barely slept the past few days, but she couldn't seem to keep her eyes closed. Truth was, she had no idea how much time had passed since she had been coerced into this stale room. Still handcuffed to the bed, naked and cold, she had become a limp rag, only moving when she had to subject herself to the will of random men.

 _Rape._ She hated that word right now, even though she had used it countless times in her job. But she had to admit that she had been raped, over and over again. The violation had left her empty, a shell of her former self.

When foreign fingers touched her skin, her muscles tensed and her skin crawled. When a defiler peeled away from her, she collapsed back into the bed, ready to claw her own skin off. Her body blended with the bed, much like the days blended in with the night, heavy drapes keeping all outside light from her eyes. The only times she arose were to use the bathroom, and then she could barely walk, her legs weak from disuse. She barely ate, and her lips were parched from whatever pills they had made her swallow.

Now there was a lull, and she thought it must be morning, although she had no way to verify her hunch. The girl was still in the corner, and Hugo had left them alone. Olivia didn't feel like doing anything, the slightest motion sapping what little energy she had left. But after days of interacting only with men who brutalized her, she wanted to connect.

"What's your name?" she croaked.

The girl cowered from her spot on the floor.

"It's okay," said Olivia through parched lips. She took a breath between each word, barely able to speak. "I'll go first. I'm Olivia."

The girl looked at her, then pouted as if ready to cry. "It's okay," Oliva whispered, wishing she could hug the girl. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get out of here."

The girl sat silent for a moment, then said quietly, "I'm Rylee."

"Rylee," repeated Olivia.

Hugo came through the door then, and Olivia nearly burst into tears. The interaction with Rylee had meant so much to her, and now it was gone, no telling for how long. "You ready?" Hugo said to her, and another man came to the door, one Olivia didn't recognize. But at this point, it didn't matter, they all desecrated her the same way. And now she wondered if she had been lying to Rylee—would they ever get out of here?

All Elliot wanted to do was get to work and find Olivia—it was the only thing he could think about—until he nearly collided with Tucker on the way to the elevator. "Elliot…Stabler." Tucker scowled at him. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Tucker. They didn't tell you?"

"Who? Tell me what?"

"SVU. They called me in to use my FBI contacts and look for Liv."

Tucker was already shaking his head before Elliot finished. "Oh, no, no, no. No, I'm working my leads through IAB. I don't need you interfering and screwing things up."

Elliot's blood began to heat up, ready to boil. "I don't think you have a choice, Ed. This is a nationwide sex slave ring. I'm pretty sure we already have an open case."

Tucker got up in his face, and now they stood chest to chest. "This is Liv we're talking about here! Not just some prostitute. I have guys from the inside, ready to bust. Swear to God, Stabler, if you spook them…"

Apparently Fin saw them, because he interrupted their argument with the firm push of his hands. "Stop it, you two. We need to work _together_ on this. Ed, this is why I didn't tell you I contacted Elliot."

Tucker scowled at the two of them. "He better not get in the way. Or so help me, Elliot…" He pointed a finger at Elliot and stormed off.

On his way back to the hotel, Elliot nearly broke his masculine wall of anger and cried. Olivia was Tucker's now. Even if Elliot found her, even if she hadn't been harmed in the slightest, he couldn't reconnect with her. She would be angry. She would want to see the man she now loved, not Elliot.

 _The man she loved_. Those were words he never would have associated with Tucker. Here was a guy who dogged her mercilessly for twelve years, trying to split up Elliot's partnership with her, accusing her of falsely of murder, locking her up in jail… What could she possibly see in him now?

But his rumination over Tucker soon took a back seat to bigger concerns. Where was she? What had happened to her? What if they had kidnapped her and "made her pay" somehow? What if they killed her? She could be at the bottom of the East River by now. And if she was, he would never get a chance to talk to her—to apologize for how he had left her so suddenly, and to tell her how he really felt about her. To admit to her that…that what? He loved her? It was probably too late for that, but he had to try and save her, no matter what.

He would have to double down and find her one way or the other, and he wouldn't stop until he did. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too late.


	4. Chapter 4

_Comments: Seriously, you're trolling a fanfiction site? But whatever floats your boat, dude. You do you. For all my real readers, I apologize for the section breaks not showing up. I fixed it so it's less confusing._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Four

Part 1.

Barba and Fin met Elliot in a dive café to avoid the risk of listening ears over bugged connections. "I got a lead," Elliot said. "It took me calling in some favors and some aggressive interrogation tactics, but I found out that the underage prostitution ring Olivia busted continued on, under a new leader named Jim Groves. Not only that, but there's a rumor that they have a gold-level prostitute available only to special clientele. She's supposed to be an exclusive prize, only offered at the highest price. Word has it she's a cop."

"Oh my God," said Barba. "Do you think it's her?"

"I don't know," said Elliot. "I couldn't get more than that. But I know one way to find out."

"Should we let Tucker in?" said Fin.

Elliot shook his head. "I don't trust him."

"She's her boyfriend, El," said Fin. "Besides that, he may be able to help us."

Elliot leaned back in his chair. "He might let something slip to the wrong people. We need to keep this under wraps."

"I agree," said Barba. "Let's involve as few people as possible for now."

Elliot liked this fast-talking attorney. "Besides," Elliot said, "I have a plan."

After he explained the details, Barba left, and Fin tried to console Elliot. "She seems really happy with Tucker."

Elliot lifted a drink to his lips. "At least they're not married."

"Maybe not, but they do live together. And, she's got a son." Elliot nearly spit out his drink. But before he did, Fin added, "But not with him."

"Who, then?"

"Nobody. It's complicated. The kid's staying with another detective from SVU, but Rollins already has a kid of her own. I don't know how much longer she can keep watching Liv's son—it's already been a week. We're floating some ideas."

"If my plan goes well, maybe we won't have to worry about it."

Part 2.

Elliot stood in front of the elevator doors and examined his appearance. He cleaned up nice. With his hair slicked back, his expensive suit, and glasses, he thought he pulled off a pretty convincing district attorney. When he got to the right floor, he stepped off and was greeted by a well-dressed bald guy who greeted him coolly with a muscular handshake and led him into a room. "Jim Groves."

"Tom Young," said Elliot.

Groves scratched his head. "What can I do for you?"

Elliot discretely scanned the room while he spoke. There was a girl who looked very young in the corner, kneeling before a guy in a chair as if she was about to go to town on him. The man leaned back, and Elliot could make out the outline of a gun in his hand.

"I'm looking for something out of the ordinary," Eliot said smoothly. I don't want the usual underage model-type. I want something a bit more challenging. Someone with experience, a professional maybe. I heard you might have something that meets that criteria."

Groves narrowed his eyes. "How so?"

Elliot glanced around, and then leaned in and whispered, "I heard you had a cop. And not just any—a station head."

Groves waved dismissively. "Nah, man, nothing like that. How could you afford something like that even if I did have it? On a DA's salary."

Elliot felt sick to his stomach at Groves referring to a prostitute, who may just be Olivia, as if she was just a piece of merchandise. "Oh, I do pretty well. It helps when you work with politicians who are up for indictment. I even have a judge on my books. Heard of Judge Wheeler?"

"Yeah, I'm listening. He can vouch for you?"

"Of course," said Elliot, hoping Groves wouldn't call his bluff. They had a plan, though, even if he did decide to check with Wheeler.

Groves paused, but then said, "Alright, man. You seem cool. I just happen to have a slot."

He led Elliot into an adjoining room. The lights were so low that it was hard for Elliot to scope out the room. But he could see the dark outline of a queen-sized bed, and a blackened silhouette hunched on one side. The figure moved, and he knew it was a woman.

As he got closer, her features became clearer, and he held back a gasp. Olivia lay curled up in a ball, naked, her arm stretched out and handcuffed to the bed. Her hair strung out, her eyes closed, she clasped herself with her free hand and shivered. Her face was pale, and her lips turned down in a frown.

Without taking his eyes off her, he said, "She doesn't look very good."

Her eyes flew open, and Groves turned to her and said, "Look alive, Katrina." He said to Elliot, "She's named after the hurricane. This one has spunk. She'll perk up when she wakes up a little. She's a hard little worker."

Olivia unfurled herself and lay on her side, her arm lying over her cleavage. Elliot fought back tears of rage. He wanted to swoop her up right now and carry her out, but he would have to fight off his urges for now—otherwise the girl in the other room might pay.

Groves said, "Well? You good, or you wanna bounce? I gotta know now, there's other people waiting."

"Yeah, I'll take her," Elliot said softly, the words practically gagging him.

"Cool. I'll give you the space. You've got fifteen minutes." Then he left and closed the door behind him.

Elliot couldn't tell if Olivia recognized him or not, because her face didn't show any signs of relief. But she stared at him, eyes wide, as he approached. He had to make it look real, in case they were watching. So he unhooked his belt, and then pulled down his pants. But he didn't take off his underwear.

Then he put one knee on the bed, and she flinched. He sighed silently, because he had to play this up good. "Get on your back," he said.

She complied, and he pushed her legs apart. Then he inserted his body between those legs, still keeping on his underwear. She looked terrified, refusing to look at him, her arm a wedge between them. She gulped.

He lay on top of her, but he propped himself up on his elbows, and then he pushed her arm away so they were chest to chest. She glanced at his face, her eyes like saucers, and then her eyebrows raised and he thought he saw recognition in her expression. "El—" she started to say.

But he clasped a hand over her mouth and said, "Shh. Don't talk."

He moved his hips as if he was grinding against her, but instead he humped the bed between her legs. He didn't even have to fight off an erection—the entire scenario disgusted him so much that he wasn't turned on in the slightest, even with her naked body pressed against him.

As he thrust his pelvis into the bed, he discretely groped the edges of the bed, looking for a bug. He kept his eyes locked on her the entire time, and she shook her head disbelievingly. There weren't any tables next to the bed, and he finally felt satisfied that nobody would hear them if he whispered, but they probably still had a camera trained on her.

He leaned his head down next to hers so that they were cheek to cheek. Then he brushed back a tuft of her hair from her ear and murmured, "Don't say anything." After a moment of silence, he said, "We're coming to get you."

He pulled away to look at her face, while still grinding into the bed. Now she looked like she was about to cry, so he leaned in again and whispered, "Hang in there, Liv, just a little bit longer. Don't give up."

He knew she couldn't risk nodding, so he wasn't surprised when she didn't. Instead, her lower lip quivered and a tear fell down to her hairline. He gripped her head and brushed it away with his thumb, risking this one small gesture so he could offer her some slight bit of comfort. He stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes, her face relaxing. He stopped driving his crotch into the bed, and just stared at her face, studying it in case he never saw her again. Then he wrapped his arms around her, lying on top of her silently, moving his hips once in a while to make it look like he was at least trying. He could feel her body shuddering underneath him, and he shook with her, horrified at the nightmare scenario.

And then the knock on the door came, jolting them both back into reality. Her eyes flew open, her eyebrows lowering in panic. He tried to reassure her with a look, and then gave her one quick nod and got up. He pulled on his pants and opened the door. "She didn't do it for me. I couldn't even get it up. Any chance I can get a refund, or at least an exchange?" he said to Groves.

"Nah, man. It's non-refundable."

Elliot feigned frustration with a sigh, and then cast one last glance back at Olivia's desperate face, and reluctantly left.


	5. Chapter 5

_Comments:_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Five

Part 1.

Olivia threw her arm over her eyes and sobbed. Elliot had just left her here, to the mercy of the pimps, to be victimized once more. Even as she understood why he did it, she couldn't forgive him. She didn't think Ed would have been able to restrain himself—he would have saved her right then and there. That's what made Elliot such a chicken shit. He had left her once before, and now he was leaving her again, right when she needed him the most.

She replayed the entire interaction in her head. When she realized who he was, her chest fluttered, thinking she would now be freed. But then she realized it was just an undercover operation for surveillance—the way he lowered himself on her and pretended to be a john. She had so many questions she had wanted to ask him—when was she going to be rescued, and how? How was her baby boy Noah holding up without her? Why was Elliot here, anyway?

For him to show up out of nowhere after six long years, and then leave her once again, was just cruel. She hated to hate him, but right now she wished he was dead.

Another man came in and used her up, and then there was a period of time where the men seemed to stop, and she cried some more over Elliot's abrupt exit. Hugo threw Rylee into the room with her and left them alone.

The girl had been talking to her more over the past few days. Olivia had even encouraged her to look for handcuff keys, but Rylee couldn't find them and had very few opportunities to search. Now the girl watched her weep.

But Rylee didn't slink back into the corner like she usually did. Instead, she picked up a blanket from the bed and laid it over Olivia, covering her up to her neck. Olivia's cries died down, and she whispered, "Thank you."

The girl sat down on the edge of the bed next to Olivia, who said softly, "Is there a hotel phone in the other room?"

Rylee shrugged. Olivia said, "Can you check the next time you're in there?"

Rylee nodded. And then she lay down next to Oliva, who could feel the girl's warmth even through the blanket, and it was comforting to her while it lasted.

Part 2.

Elliot had to drag himself away from the hotel. Liv was in there. She needed immediate help. He made it outside and turned on his heel to go right back in, but Barba swept past him, grabbing Elliot's arm and guiding him down the street. "Don't do it. She needs you to do this the right way, Elliot."

"I gotta go get her, Barba."

Elliot tried to pull away but Fin joined them from the other side, wedging him in. None of them raised their voice while they talked. "Barba's right. We go in there now, and there might be a shootout. Olivia and the girl are both likely to get it. We need to organize an extraction. Let's do it and get back here as soon as we can."

Elliot growled. He didn't like this, but they were right. He couldn't save Olivia if she got taken out due to sloppy teamwork. And she wouldn't be happy if he shot yet another victim. It's why he had left all those years ago—he couldn't face her knowing he had shot a young girl.

Now they had to inform the rest of the squad, so forces could be coordinated. Rollins was as pissed as Elliot—she wanted to go in immediately. "What the hell is taking so long?" she kept asking. "Every second is another one that Olivia has to bear…" She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence. As she walked away, she brushed away a tear.

Right after she slunk off to the bathroom, Tucker turned the corner into the squad room. "Elliot Stabler," he boomed. "What are you keeping from me?"

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked coyly.

"You know." Tucker grabbed Elliot by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Then he yelled so loud that spittle flew into Elliot's eyes. "I got a phone call. From a girl, says she's with Olivia, who told her to call me. The girl said you had been there, and she said they were going to try to get away, to make it easier for _us_ to get in there. Who is _us_ , Stabler?"

"We're trying to do it the right way, Tucker."

"Without. Telling. Me."

Elliot tried shoving Tucker off him, and then Carisi stepped in and did it for him. "Hold up, Tucker," said Carisi. "We're all on the same side, here."

"Are we?"

"Okay, Tucker! I'm sorry," Elliot yelled, his tone sarcastic. "I'm sorry for keeping you out. Excuse me for not believing someone who dogged her so much throughout her career could really want the best for her."

Tucker scowled at Elliot, then turned away and rubbed the back of his own head. "We have to get her out of there, and soon. That's why I've put together a team."

Elliot stepped toward him. "We already have a team."

Rollins cut in. "C'mon, guys. Why can't we just team up and work together?"

"Because you didn't move fast enough!" Tucker shouted. "We're ready to go _now_."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and stormed off.


	6. Chapter 6

_Comments:_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Six

Part 1.

Rylee found the handcuff keys, but she couldn't get to them. "They're on Hugo's keychain," she whispered into Olivia's ear. The men had given up on keeping Olivia and Rylee apart, and had allowed them to sleep next to each other during slow times. "Hugo keeps his keychain on a retractable leash attached to his pants. He never takes them off."

"That's okay," Olivia murmured. "Just keep an eye out. Always know where those keys are."

Later, after entertaining another visitor, Rylee popped into the room, animated. "Hugo's taking a shower," she said. "He said it's your turn after that. He says you need one too."

Olivia secretly panicked. Not that she didn't want to take a shower—she very much wanted to wash all the filth off her. But Hugo had said he wanted to wait for her to get clean before taking her for himself. And she hated him so much right now that his mere presence in the room made her want to vomit.

She couldn't take a shower with Hugo there.

But it gave her an idea. "Is he in there now?"

"Yeah."

"The keys, Rylee. Look for the keys."

The girl brought her hands up to her lips. "I'm scared."

"I know Rylee," Olivia whispered. "But now's the time to be brave."

Rylee slunk out of the room. Within a few minutes she was back, and she beamed. "I got them, Olivia! Not only that, I got this too."

Olivia looked at the gun she held up. "That's good, Rylee. That's really good. Now bring the keys over here."

The girl brought the keys over and used the smallest one to unlock Olivia. The shower turned off. "Hurry," said Olivia.

But as soon as she rolled off the bed, her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed. Rylee bent down to help her up. Olivia managed to stand up weakly, and pulled the sheet around her. Then she led Rylee to the door, and opened it. The door to the adjoining hotel room opened, and a shocked Hugo barged in. "Where do you think you're going?"

Olivia sighed, knowing it was probably over, because Rylee still had the gun. But a shot deafened her, and she looked over to see Hugo's body sprawled out on the floor. She glanced at Rylee, who stood completely still, her eyes wide as saucers.

Olivia knew they would have to move fast, because more men were likely to be in the other room, especially Groves. "C'mon." She guided the confused Rylee to the door.

Olivia was barely able to stay on her feet, but she managed to make it out into the hallway, and headed to the elevators at the end. A man turned the corner toward them, and she recognized him instantly. "Tucker." But another shot rang out, and Tucker dropped instantly.

Olivia glanced back to see the girl still holding the smoking gun. Then, with every last bit of her energy, she ran down the hallway and collapsed beside Tucker. But his eyes wouldn't open, and the bullet had gone straight into his head. Now he opened his eyes slowly, a smile appearing just as he faded out for good.

Part 2.

Elliot's team had caught up with Tucker's just outside the hotel room, and they moved in just behind Tucker's. As they exited, Elliot heard two gunshots, spaced out. And then he heard a high-pitched shriek so sad it almost burst his heart along with his eardrums, followed by, "Noooo, Ed, no!" He came off the elevator and rounded the corner to find Olivia, covered only in a sheet, draped over Tucker's lifeless body on the floor.

He let the other officers go ahead of him and take down Groves while he squatted and gently pried Olivia away from Tucker. Her cheeks wet with tears, she begged him, "No, don't make me leave him."

"I have to try and do CPR," said Elliot, although he knew in his heart it was a lost cause.

But he rolled up his sleeves and got to work anyway, pumping away at Tucker's chest. Tucker's eyes stayed open, though, and he never did take another breath. Paramedics took over for Elliot when the floor was cleared, but after the defrib paddles failed, they declared the man dead, and Olivia eased herself down across Tucker's chest again.

Paramedics wanted to examine her too, because she was obviously in a poor shape. Elliot held them off for a while so Olivia could mourn, and then he said softly, "Liv, they need to…"

She didn't move, but he rubbed her shoulder, not sure how much good it would do. The paramedics closed in on her, taking her vital signs while she lay, unmoving. She didn't resist when they rolled her off Tucker and onto a board, and then lifted her onto a gurney. Elliot watched the wrinkles in her forehead as he grabbed her hand. "It's going to be okay, Liv," he said, but she didn't respond, instead closing her eyes. And then the medics lifted her into the ambulance. He wanted to sit with her, but they whisked her away so quickly that there wasn't a chance.

Part 3.

All the elation Olivia felt upon seeing Tucker's face disintegrated when he dropped to the ground. After that, she wished she had died too, so that she could be with him again. She knew Noah needed her. But after everything she had been through, she needed more than just the snuggles of her little boy.

Gravity sapped everything from her, and she went limp in the ambulance. She stayed that way at the hospital, unable to form a thought. She no longer noticed things like pain and fear, having lost the ability to feel anything at all. Doctors asked her questions, but she didn't answer them. Nurses moved her to different rooms, but she wasn't aware of that.

At one point she vaguely noted Amanda's presence at the side of her bed. "Liv? You okay?"

But Olivia barely heard Rollins. Her eyes open little more than slits, she ignored anyone near her. "C'mon, Olivia, talk to me," Amanda implored, without success.

And then she heard Amanda's desperate voice talking to someone who sounded like Elliot. "She won't talk to anyone. She won't move."

And Amanda was right-she couldn't do those things. Her body sunk into the bed, and she closed her eyes to shut out the entire world.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Comments:**_ _Oh no! Someone's anonymously bullying the fictional character in my stories! What ever will I do? I don't know if I can go on living anymore. It may even affect my sales—oh, wait…_

 _Gotta appreciate the hecklers, God love 'em. They make life interesting._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Seven

Part 1.

It was morning, and Elliot literally heard a bobby pin drop from a nurse's hair and hit the floor. The source of the surrounding silence, Olivia, did not move, but instead remained curled up in the fetal position on the bed. A doctor breezed into the room and examined her chart.

"Doctor," said Elliot, grabbing the man's arm to get his attention. "What's wrong with her? And why is she not in the ICU?"

The doctor cast him a condescending look. "Because there's nothing wrong with her, other than a little bit of dehydration, and some minor trauma in…wait-who are you, anyway?"

"I'm…nobody. We're not related. I'm just her ex-partner. I'm just trying to figure out why she's so unresponsive."

"She's in shock. She'll come out of it eventually."

Elliot didn't blame the doctor for not elaborating more. Elliot wasn't family, and he wasn't even her boyfriend. But he would give anything to know what could be done about her condition, besides wait it out. Because when he looked at her eyes staring off into nothing, or the downturned corners of her unspeaking lips, he just wanted to punch a wall until every bone in his fist broke.

The doctor left, and another, older, man came in. He held out his hand to Elliot. "I'm Dr. Lindstrom, Olivia's therapist."

"I'm Elliot Stabler."

"Ah, I've heard a lot about you."

"Uh-oh. And you still shook my hand?"

Dr. Lindstrom smiled at Elliot's joke and walked past him, to Olivia's bed. "And how are you, Olivia?"

If he was waiting for an answer, it wasn't going to come, and Elliot felt the need to warn the doctor. "She's not—"

"I know," said Dr. Lindstrom, turning to Elliot and whispering to him. "Fin told me she's not talking. But it's important to treat her the same, because she can still hear and understand us." Then he kneeled next to the bed, took Olivia's hand and said, "You're safe now, Olivia. But I know you're having a hard time dealing with all this. I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

Olivia's unblinking eyes stared widely ahead. She gulped, but Elliot couldn't tell if it was just a physiological reaction. Dr. Lindstrom stroked her arm and said, "You let me know when you're ready to talk. I'll be here whenever you need me."

Then he stood and started to walk out, and Elliot followed him out the door. "Doctor. Can you tell me what's wrong with Olivia? They say it's just shock, but she's completely catatonic."

The doctor furrowed his brow. "Sometimes this happens in cases of extreme trauma. What she's been through…"

He started to choke up, and Elliot averted his eyes. Doctor Lindstrom composed himself and said, "Just keep talking to her, Elliot. She needs normalcy, and strong people to support her. It may take a while, but she will talk again. This is Olivia we're talking about. I haven't seen anything that can keep her down yet."

Elliot nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

Part 2.

Elliot never left Olivia's side, and she had a string of visitors throughout the day—Fin, Carisi, Barba, even Munch and former Captain Cragan. But she didn't respond to any of them, and Elliot thought he had never seen so many men with tears in their eyes as they left her side.

Amanda paid a visit later in the day. "No change, huh?" she asked Elliot in the hallway.

"No, and I'm worried. They're feeding her with an IV because she won't eat."

Amanda rubbed her chin. "I thought about bringing in Noah, maybe she would respond to him."

"Maybe," said Elliot. "But what if she doesn't? What do you think that would do to Noah?"

Amanda frowned. "Yeah, you're right. That might traumatize him, and I'm sure she wouldn't want that to happen." She shook her head. "I just don't know what else to do for her."

Elliot folded his arms. "Well I'm tired of waiting. I'm going to figure out something. I don't know what it's going to take, but I'm not going to sit here and watch her wither away."

Amanda touched his arm. "You let me know if you think of anything."

When she left, Elliot returned to Olivia's side, sitting in a chair next to her bed. He felt silly talking to her when she wouldn't reciprocate, but Dr. Lindstrom had said it might help. He swallowed his embarrassment. "Liv, I…" He gulped. This was even harder than he had thought it would be. "I—I'm really sorry for everything you went through. I can't even imagine…"

He shook his head. She didn't move, but she opened her eyes a little. Encouraged, he continued. "I wish—I wish I would have gotten to you sooner. I wish I would have been here for you all those years I went missing from your life. I wish we could've…"

He shook his head again, unsure how much he should reveal about his hidden desires. Instead, he said, "If I had been here, this might not have happened, and for that, I'm sorry."

She blinked, but he didn't see any signs of acknowledgement in her eyes. "But even when I did come back, I could have done more. When Fin called me, there was so much I didn't even know about your life. I didn't know you had a son, and I didn't know about Tucker." Her eyes opened fully now, but she still stared off into the distance. "And I certainly didn't trust him. I think I should worked more with Tucker."

Her eyebrows lowered furiously now, her gaze honed in on him, and suddenly her hand balled into a fist. "You don't get to talk about Tucker," she said, her voice raspy from disuse. He sat up straight. She had something to say after all.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Comments:**_ _Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy!_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Eight

Part 1.

Elliot leaned forward. "What did you say?"

"You don't get to talk about him."

"Okay," he whispered. He didn't care that she was mad at him. By the way she glared at him, he thought she must back for good, and flutters filled his stomach.

She licked her lips. "Tucker came after me, when you didn't." Her voice warbled. "You left me there. I can't ever forgive you for that."

He thought carefully before he answered her. "You're right. I don't deserve forgiveness."

"Why did you just leave me there?" she said, her voice accusatory.

He sunk his hands in between his knees and hung his head. "I couldn't let another one die. I didn't think you would want that."

Stubborn wrinkles remained on her forehead, but she never raised her voice. "Another one what?"

He scratched his head. Did she really not remember? "Another innocent victim. I assumed you wouldn't want Rylee to die."

She said weakly, "But you said another one. Who else? Was there another girl there?"

He kept his eyes trained on hers. "I mean Jenna."

She didn't answer, just pursed her lips. He got up to pace, and she spoke softly. "I never blamed you for that." He kept pacing, running his hand over the back of his head. She said, "But I still can't forgive you for never coming back."

He didn't know whether she was talking about the time he didn't come back for her two days ago at the hotel room, or the time he didn't come back six years ago, after shooting Jenna. Either way, he was fine with it. He really didn't deserve her forgiveness. But he wanted to at least be there for her. He sat down next to her again, and their eyes locked. "So, does that mean I have to leave?"

She closed her eyes now. "No. You can stay."

Part 2.

Olivia's head felt too heavy to interact with others, so she lay still like she had before. But she noticed Elliot's presence at her side at all times. He made her feel safe, like her abductors would not dare enter her room and take her away again as long as Elliot was there.

Barba came to visit. When she didn't greet him immediately, he said to Elliot, "Is she…?"

She didn't see Elliot's response, but she knew he must have shook his head or gestured in some way, because Barba came closer to her. "Olivia?"

She looked at him, and he did a double take. He sat down next to her. "Do you feel like talking?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"How are you…feeling today?" Then he shook his head. "Nevermind, you don't have to answer if you don't want—"

"I'm feeling a little better," she said.

He smiled sheepishly. "Good. I'm really glad to hear that."

She forced a weak smile, and her heart began to warm. But then his lips turned down at the corners, and her stomach knotted. "We have some big decisions to make," he said, "and we have to act quickly. I'm sure you have an idea—"

She groaned and rolled onto her back. Staring at the ceiling, she said, "I don't want to talk about this right now, Barba."

"They didn't do a rape kit yet, Olivia, not without your consent. You know, once you take a shower—"

"I don't care." Her voice stayed level, like a robot. "I don't want a rape kit."

Barba hesitated. "But...without it, we'd just have your testimony against Groves—"

"I'm not testifying either. It's my word against his."

"Olivia." He sounded as if he wanted to get angry with her, but she knew he wouldn't. Not in her condition. He sighed. "Without your testimony, it's going to be just Rylee's word against his. Do you want to put that all on her?"

For a second she imagined a scenario where she subjected herself to a rape kit, and then stood up in court and looked Groves in the eye, and then she pictured him walking free. They would say she had voluntarily prostituted herself out. They would say she had enjoyed it. The old Olivia would have done it—she would have stared him down in court and bravely told the truth. In fact, she had done it before—had swallowed her fear and testified against Lewis, even as he got face to face with her, spittle flying toward her as he accused her.

But this was the new Olivia. Moving, talking, being awake—these things exhausted her. There was no way anyone was going to pry inside her, and there was definitely no way she was ever laying eyes on Groves again. She folded her hands over her belly. "I'm sorry, Barba. I just can't."

He sat in silence for a moment. Then he placed a hand on her shoulder as he stood. "Okay. I'll be back to visit if you ever want to just talk. About anything."

Part 3.

Elliot and a nurse helped Olivia into the bathroom so she could take a shower. Elliot left the bathroom, but the nurse stayed in for a moment. Elliot heard the water running, and then the nurse emerged. "I have to go help another patient," she said. "She'll be fine."

Elliot paced until her heard the bathroom door click open. He turned to see Olivia in the doorway, her bath robe tugged firmly around her, her hair still dripping. She looked so small and frail. He went to her and stopped in front of her.

She looked up at him, frowning, shivering, but he never saw any tears. "I'm so cold," she said. "No matter how hot the water got, it was never hot enough.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed," he said, and then he helped her to it.

She paused at the side of it, and then turned to face him. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could have drowned in the sorrow he saw in their depths. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Is this okay?" he murmured.

She nodded. And then she leaned into him, and wrapped her arms around him.

He stood still at first, dumbfounded by her sudden display of affection. But then he returned the hug, enfolding her, feeling her heart beat against his chest. He rested his head against hers too, and she didn't pull away. She never once cried, didn't even move while swaddled against him. But finally, she pulled away from him, and he helped her into bed. He sighed, grateful that she trusted him enough to allow him that close.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Nine

Part 1.

Olivia pulled on her boots one at a time, slowly. She was going home today.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands grasping the sheets. The concept of clothes was strange, after going so long without them, although here she was, fully dressed. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine her shirt and pants as a shield, protecting her. But they could be removed with just the hint of a gun.

She opened her eyes and sighed. She had to stand up and walk now, something she hadn't been allowed to do for over a week. Her strength was mostly back, so it shouldn't be that hard. But as soon as she stood, she wobbled, and Elliot leaned in to catch her. She stopped him with her hand. The sheer numbness that consumed her body kept her feeling awkward as she took steps toward the door. The lack of feeling tripped her up every time.

But she wished Elliot wouldn't watch her so closely, like she was some sort of freak. Maybe she was. She had been a sideshow to countless men, or maybe she was the main attraction. Either way, at least twenty men now knew her intimately, and she could never shake off those layers of filth, no matter how hard she shivered.

Elliot rested his hand on her shoulder, and she wanted to scream at him. _Stop staring at me!_

Instead, she glanced at him. "Okay, I'm ready."

He drove her to her apartment, where every picture and pillow and nick-nack reminded her of Ed. He had slept on that couch more than once, when she was too drunk to get intimate. He had given her that little porcelain bird that sat on her dresser. They had kissed in that one corner of the kitchen.

"You okay?" Elliot asked.

 _How can you even fucking ask that?_

But even as she shook her head, she said, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Amanda and Carisi came soon after, with Noah. "Mommy!" he yelled, almost before she got the door open. His little hands grasped at her, and she picked him up and held him tight, wondering if she ever had to let go.

Still hugging Noah, she closed her eyes to shut out everyone's stares. But she still felt their looks, and she wondered what they thought about her right now. _Do they all know how many men…?_

The thought made her gut clench, and she abruptly set Noah down. He wrapped his arms around her leg. "Mommy."

She shuddered. She couldn't even be a mother now. Burying her face in her hands, she walked toward the bedroom with Noah clutching her pant leg the whole way. "Liv," Amanda called after her.

She slammed the bedroom door and curled up on the bed with Noah. The door gently clicked open, but she didn't look up to see who was there. Instead, she breathed unevenly into Noah's hair, her heart pounding.

"Liv," said Elliot.

She didn't look at him. "Liv," he said again. And then after another round of silence he said, "C'mon, please don't do this to me. Talk to me?"

She hissed, "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"

He didn't answer, but he sat on the bed next to her. Noah reached out and touched Elliot's hand. Finally, he said, "I don't expect anything from you, Liv. I just don't want you to give up."

Her eyelids grew heavy. "I'm not. But I don't have the energy."

"Energy for what?"

She closed her eyes, and her words started to slur. "To live my life again."

Sleep overtook her, but the last thing she remembered was Elliot's hand grasping hers, and his last few fuzzy words.

"I know you can do this, Liv. Have faith in yourself…"

Part 2.

A knock on the bedroom door woke Olivia up. Amanda opened the door a crack and said, "You have a visitor, Olivia. Dr. Lindstrom."

Olivia sat up on the edge of the bed. It wouldn't be dignified to be lying in bed all the time. Amanda came in and picked up Noah. "I thought I might take him for ice cream?"

Noah squirmed, but Olivia said to him, "Go with Amanda, Noah. It'll be fine." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

Dr. Lindstrom came in just after Noah left. He sat down on a chair facing her. There was an ottoman in front of him, but he planted his feet firmly on the ground. "Hi, Olivia. It's good to see you."

She plunged her hands between her knees to keep from shaking so hard. Just having him look at her made her teeth chatter. It didn't matter that he was her therapist—he was a man, and he was staring at her. She avoided eye contact, but immediately felt ashamed. This was Dr. Lindstrom—he would never hurt her.

Pale light from the lamp kept the room dampened, and she was glad she couldn't see his face very well. It meant he couldn't see hers either.

He moved his hand, and she flinched, and then blinked several times. She waited for the worst to happen, imagining for a second him reaching for his belt. But instead, he withdrew a pen from inside his jacket. He watched her, and then set the pen down gently. "Olivia, would you feel more comfortable in this chair? I can trade places with you."

She really didn't want to play musical chairs right now, but she hung her head. "Yeah. Sure. Thanks."

They switched places, while she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He wouldn't do anything. Why was she so uptight?

Dr. Lindstrom waited for her to curl up on the chair with her feet resting on the ottoman. Then he gently placed a blanket over her and returned to the bedside. "Better?"

She nodded. He waited for her to talk first. But when she didn't, he said, "Olivia, you don't have to tell me anything. I just want to make sure you're okay."

She exhaled, and her voice quivered. "I'm—I'm not testifying, either."

"And I would never ask you to." He leaned forward. "This is a safe place. Just raise your hand if you feel uncomfortable, and I will leave the room."

She nodded again, and clutched the blanket tight. "So, what's on your mind?" he asked.

She swallowed hard, and then her voice sounded desperate. "What if…I can't?"

"Can't what?"

"Satisfy all these people. Everyone's spending their time taking care of me. What if I let them down?"

"Olivia, nobody's expecting you to just jump up and go back to your normal self."

"I know." She closed her eyes. "But…what if I _never_ go back to my old life? Because right now I'm having trouble just getting out of bed."

She didn't look at his face. She didn't want that pity. But his voice was reassuring. "Let's take things one step at a time. Worrying about the future isn't going to help you now. What we need to work on first is helping you feel like there are men who are still safe."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." What he didn't know was that there was already one man who didn't make her feel like crawling into a corner.

"Before I leave, I want to do one thing to help you feel safe with me again. What do you think I could do?"

She thought about it while biting her lip. "Hold my hand? Or is that too much-?"

"It's fine, Olivia."

He came to her and sat on the ottoman. Then he gently reached over and found her hand on the armrest, and set his hand on top of hers. She gulped deep breaths while squeezing her eyes shut. He held her hand firmly and didn't move. She exhaled through her mouth. Her body was waiting for his hand to slide somewhere else, to grope her, but that nightmare scenario didn't happen.

"You okay?" he said, and she gave two tight nods. But she felt like air could barely pass through her lungs. She coughed.

He squeezed her hand. "We can stop now if you want."

"No…no." She steadied her breaths. "Please stay."

"Okay."

She sat listening to her own blood rushing for a while, keeping her eyes shut tight. "There was one guy."

He gripped her hand tighter. "You don't have to—"

"No, I want to…. Most of the guys just wanted to get in, get out. Get off." She was too embarrassed to tell this story to Dr. Lindstrom, so she imagined she was alone in the room, telling it to herself. "There were some who wanted revenge, and that was worse. Definitely worse, but still, they seemed restrained."

She hoped she wouldn't hyperventilate, and focused on the doctor's hand enveloping hers. "But this one…man, piece of slime, whatever you want to call him, decided he wanted to play a game. So he—"

She paused to take some slow breaths so she wouldn't swoon. "Olivia," he said. "Let's stop here. I think you're getting—"

"He choked me," she said through her teeth. "Until I passed out. He knew exactly where to press so that it looked like he was just playing rough. But I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to die."

She got quiet, and he stroked her hand gently in the silence. She could barely hear his voice. "I'm so sorry, Olivia."

"No, the thing is, for those few seconds where I felt the life draining out of me, I was _peaceful_. There was this sense of relief that I wouldn't have to live through this hell anymore. But immediately there was guilt, too, for leaving Noah behind.

She opened her eyes to her blurry surroundings and immediately regretted it. Tears had moistened Dr. Lindstrom's face, tears that she herself couldn't release. He gripped her hand like a vice and said, "I'm so sorry."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Ten

Part 1.

Elliot put Noah to bed that night, after he saw how Olivia struggled to lift her head off the pillow. "You look tired," he'd said.

She'd nodded. "It's the anxiety pills. And Dr. Lindstrom prescribed even more."

He had held Noah up to Olivia for one more kiss, then carried him to the crib in Noah's room, where the boy began to fuss. "Uh-uh," Elliot said. "I know this game. You have no idea how many times I've done this."

He rocked Noah until the boy began to settle down, and wondered how many times Tucker had done this same thing. Soon he was able to lay Noah down, and the toddler lay sprawled out, little hands and feet everywhere.

He came to Olivia's bed and sat next to her. "He's asleep," he said.

When she didn't answer at first, he prepared to leave her alone. But she stopped him before he could stand. "Thank you. I'm not even a good mom anymore."

"Welcome. And yes, you are. You don't just stop being a mom because you need a break."

She touched his hand. "El?"

"Yeah?"

"How's Rylee?"

He pursed his lips. "Her mom and dad said she was getting through it."

She blinked. "That's it?"

"Yeah."

Olivia's eyelids drooped. "Let's face it, she's suffering. And it's because of me." Her words started to slur, and Elliot remembered she had just had an anxiety pill an hour ago. She was going downhill fast.

He leaned down close to her so she could hear him without straining. "Why because of you? You didn't do anything to her."

"Exactly. It's what I didn't do for her. I'm not testifying. What a chicken shit thing to do. Now she has to go up on the stand alone."

"Olivia."

But she shook her head. "How selfish and horrible of me to leave her on her own. But then, I always have been one to cover my own ass when things get hard."

He didn't know what she meant, but he held her hand. "Why are you being so hard on yourself? You're not forcing her to testify, Olivia. That's her choice."

She scrunched up her lips. "But she's making the courageous choice. I'm not! I'm leaving her to the wolves all alone."

"Shh…" Elliot couldn't stand to hear her berate herself anymore. "You do what you need to do, Olivia. Stop taking care of everybody else and take care of you." She glared, but she listened. "You deserve it, Liv. If anybody's earned a break from being the hero for once, it's you."

She got quiet, and her eyelids began to close before she could even pull the sheets up. He tugged them up to her neck, and then picked up her hand again. Kissing her fingers, he said, "You deserve nothing but the best, Olivia Benson."

Noah cried from the other room, and Elliot eyed Olivia camped out on the bed. He sighed. _I guess diaper duty never does end._

After calming down the fussy toddler, Elliot could have left. But Olivia was out so cold that Elliot thought it might not be safe to leave Noah here alone with her. So he pulled off his shirt, got a blanket, and settled on the couch to sleep.

Part 2.

Elliot woke early to the sound of Noah crying loudly. His fatherly instincts kicked in, and he went in and changed a diaper, and then carried Noah back into the living room to play while he got coffee and breakfast ready. Olivia didn't make a sound all morning.

He brought her orange juice, toast, and her handful of pills, but she was still asleep. He sat down the tray of food and tapped her. "Liv. Wake up."

She barely stirred at first, but then she yawned. Her eyes opened slowly. "Brought you breakfast," he said.

"Why do you even bother, El?"

The words stung, because he knew she wasn't joking. But he wasn't going to let her get to him. "Oh, quit being so glum. You need to at least drink something. Here's your pills, too."

"They make me tired," she mumbled.

"Take 'em or don't take 'em," he said, shrugging as he turned to leave. "That's up to you."

"I'm sorry, El." He stopped his feet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He squeezed his eyes shut, and then left her alone.

His phone rang. "Stabler," he answered.

"It's Barba." His voice raced. "Where's Liv?"

"In the bedroom. What's the matter?"

"Rylee's been taken. It happened in the middle of the night. I think they're trying to keep her from testifying. And if that's true—"

"Liv's in danger." He began to pace in the kitchen, thinking about all the things he needed to do to protect her. "Maybe we should have reinforcements here. These guys tend to work in groups."

"I think that's a great idea. I'll call and get some officers down there."

"Thanks." Elliot popped into Olivia's room to warn her. "I think we should…"

"Elliot?" said Barba.

His eyes scanned the room. "Oh my god. Olivia's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?"

He checked the bathroom—no Olivia. "There's no sign of her, and it looks like her gun's gone too. I've been here the whole time!"

"Do you think…?

Elliot began to pull on clothes. "Dammit. She must have left on her own, Barba. There's no way someone could have taken her out of here without me noticing. Oh, wait—" On the bed was a handwritten note. It read, _Soho Props._ "Well, I think I know where she went. She must have taken her phone with her. I bet Groves used the girl…"

"Of course," said Barba. "We gotta get down there."

Elliot glanced at her tray, and then darted out the door, still talking to Barba. "Yeah we do. She took her meds, so she's not going to be thinking with a clear head."

Part 3.

It wasn't even a choice for Olivia. She got the text from Groves with a picture of Rylee attached, and she snuck out. She didn't deserve to live while Rylee died. She hopped in the back of a cab and went to the location, a warehouse that contained movie props. Groves greeted her with a gun after the cab left.

"Ah, don't look so sad," he said. "Come with me."

"You have me, now." She raised her hands. "Let the girl go."

"No way," he said, patting her down. "But don't worry, we won't put you to work again."

He led her through the warehouse to an area in the back containing wooden sets designed for a movie or a play. "But we can't let you two testify."

Rylee was in the middle of the room, tied to a fake wooden light pole. Olivia ran to the girl, and then she noticed that her own legs were a little wobbly and the room was spinning, and she knew her meds were kicking in. "It's going to be okay, Rylee," she said.

Groves tied Olivia's arms to the post as well. She felt dizzy, and caught herself before losing her balance. "We're not going to testify. And even if we did, it's our word against a police commissioner. Who do you think they're going to believe?"

"Still, it's too much scandal for someone in my position. Easier just to make the problem go away." He picked up a gas can from the floor and began to pour gasoline around their feet, and then splattered copious amounts of it on the floor around them, backing up as he did to form a trail of flammable liquid leading right to them. "In a few minutes, it'll all be gone."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Comments:**_ _On a roll now. I think they'll be coming about one a day now._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Eleven

Part 1.

Olivia struggled against her restraints. Any second now, she expected to hear the _whoosh_ of fire around her. But Groves had left the room, no telling for how long, and she hoped it would give her enough time to figure out how to save Rylee and herself.

 _Is it worth it?_ She kept working, but a part of her had already given up. _Isn't this what you wanted? For it to end?_ She agreed with the voice, in theory, but she kept working her fingers around the ropes. Even the part of her that wanted to die didn't want to go down in flames.

Rylee whimpered next to her. Olivia ignored the girl, spotting something shiny out of the corner of her eye. It was a putty knife, and it might be exactly what she needed. "Rylee, help me move this," she said, referring to the wooden prop they were tied to.

Together they pushed and pulled, and managed to move the fake pole an inch at a time, until she was a foot away from the knife. She leaned over as far as she could and picked it up with her mouth. She grunted, depositing it neatly into her own hand. And then she got to work sawing away at the ropes.

Part 2.

Elliot raced down the West Side Highway in his agency car, pushing 120 miles per hour. He didn't know why, but it suddenly hit him that she hadn't cried the last few days. Not once. Maybe she cried quietly when he wasn't around, but her face wasn't puffy, her eyes never red.

No, he thought she must not have broken down once so far. Was she made of steel? Or was she going to implode from the grief she had endured? But none of that would matter if he didn't find her quickly.

Part 3.

Olivia's fingers worked at a furious pace, and she was able to get her arms free, and then Rylee's, before Groves returned. "C'mon," she said, and pulled Rylee along while she ran across the room. But they made it to a side door when she saw Groves coming from the other end of the warehouse, and he saw her. She looked around, and then snatched a box of matches off the table. She fumbled, but managed to retrieve one match just as Groves lifted his gun and aimed it at them.

"Stop!" she yelled, holding the match against the box. "Or I'll set us all on fire."

"You wouldn't dare," he said, training the gun on her. "I'd have a shot off before it hit the floor."

She shook her head and tightened her jaw. "I don't care." She locked eyes with him to show him how serious she was. "You think I care if I die? You took my life from me," she said, emphasizing every word. "Just let the girl go, and maybe _you'll_ live. Then you can have me."

Groves sized her up. Finally, he said, "Okay. She can go. You stay."

Without looking at her, Olivia said, "Go, Rylee. Run!"

She heard Rylee's footfalls as the girl made her escape. Still holding the match against the box, Olivia looked at Groves through lowered eyes. "Now. Answer some questions for me. Who all is here? Is it just you?"

He never took the gun or his eyes off her. "Enough people to surround you. We were just having a final meeting to agree on some things."

"Who?" she yelled.

"A few councilmen, several police captains, Judge Wheeler—"

"Wheeler."

"And a shit load of security. All in my pocket. So don't even think you're getting out of here alive."

"I don't plan on it." She smirked, blinking back tears. "And neither should you."

With that, she lit the match and threw it on the ground, and a wall of flames burst in between them, stopping him from getting a shot off.

Part 4.

Elliot pulled up to the warehouse, and the first thing he noticed was a massive cloud of smoke billowing out the front door. Rylee came running out, coughing and sputtering. Elliot parked a safe distance back, but then he had to sprint to the front to help Rylee get clear of the door. He called in on his radio, "Fire at Soho Props. We need immediate fire vehicles. Officer trapped inside and in need of assistance."

When he was done, he grabbed Rylee by her arms. "Where's Olivia? Was she behind you?"

But the girl was crying too hard, and Elliot checked her over for critical wounds. Fire trucks blared into the parking lot, and Elliot left the girl to paramedics.

"Stay back," said a fireman.

But he had to get to Olivia, and he tried to burst through the front door. It was blocked by a wall of smoke and flames, and Elliot called out, "Liv! Are you in there?"

Then he reluctantly retreated. Surely there had to be another way out. He beat the firefighters to a side door, but it was locked. He would have to wait for the firemen to break it down. Smoke poured from its cracks. "Hurry!" he shouted.

Part 5.

When the match hit the floor, Olivia stood still, watching the floor around her ignite. Brilliant blues consumed the ground, flaring up into brighter reds and yellows. Elaborate fake city buildings became engulfed in fire, and it looked like an apocalyptic scene from a movie. A mannequin lit up, its fake hair disappearing in a second. Flames flew so high now that they licked the ceiling, and the entire room mushroomed in a satisfying _woompf._

It was beautiful.

She looked around for Groves, and caught sight of him in flames, flailing on the floor. She hesitated for another second, before realizing that the dancing fire would have her any time now. She wiped sweat from her brow and headed toward the front door.

At first, she wasn't worried. If she made it out, or if she didn't, either way was fine. Noah would be hurt by her death, but he was young, and he would heal. And nobody else depended on her—not anymore.

But then the heat started to suffocate her, and she panicked, trying to make her way through thick smoke to the door. The fumes enveloped her, and she couldn't breathe. She dropped to the floor, deciding she would have to go back and find another way. She felt her way back into the room, touching the hot floor to guide her.

Smoke made her eyes water, making it hard to see. She coughed, trying to expel the thick substance from her lungs. She had a new plan—she would find her way to the wall, and then she could follow it until she found a door.

But it was so hot. Everything burned her—every metal item she groped to find the wall again, the wall itself, even the floor. She started to cry, and not from the smoke. She _was_ going to die in here, and suddenly she wasn't okay with it.

She crawled, noticing a tiny window of clarity below the smoke. The wall next to her glowed red, but she kept her hands on it, ignoring the stinging heat at her fingertips. She could barely gasp with the air this soupy, and she felt so dizzy that she just wanted to lie down, so she did. _I could just lay here, never get back up._

But she heard a sound through the crackling blaze, and it sounded like it came from outside. Now her brain identified the sound—a banging, like someone knocking on a door. Was there a door?

She crept forward on hands and knees, whimpering. And then she saw something on the wall—a crack, ascending upwards into the smoke. It had to be a door.

She got up on her knees just as one of her sleeves burst into flames. "Please," she said weakly. _Please let it be unlocked._

She turned the handle, and the door flew open. She flopped onto the ground, too tired to extinguish the fire consuming her arm. Fortunately, someone did it for her with a fire extinguisher, and someone else dragged her away from the building, into the cool outdoor air. She could still feel the fire, alive, dancing, but it was farther away now.

She opened her eyes, and Elliot's worried face looked down at her. "Just stay calm," he said, and she thought he must be talking to himself, because if she was any calmer she'd be dead. But he wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're okay now."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Comments:**_ _I just want to say, Mariska Hargitay is gorgeous, graceful, and beautiful inside and out, which is more than I can say about certain commenters (If you're scratching your head, it's not you). And I'd just like to see you look that smoking hot in your fifties, mister._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twelve

Part 1.

Elliot paced by the side door, waiting for the firefighters to get the equipment to pry off the door handle. Occasionally, he knocked on the metal frame, hoping she would hear him and come to it. First responders had determined this was the only other way out, so if she didn't make it out this door, she wouldn't make it out at all.

Just as the firemen rushed up with their equipment, the door flew open, and Olivia fell forward, a cloud of flames bursting over her head. She collapsed onto her belly, her sleeve encased in fire. Someone brought over a fire extinguisher and put out her arm. Elliot grabbed her hands and dragged her away from the building, afraid that if he didn't act quickly, the building would explode and take her and him with it.

Now he knelt down next to her, saying words to reassure her, although he had no idea what he said. He brushed her dark hair aside from her face, amazed that she still had some left. Her face was covered with soot, and she coughed and then moaned. He held up a finger to her lips. "Shh…don't try to speak."

Medics dropped a blanket on her, and then slapped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. She yanked it away and grabbed his hand with much more strength than he expected. She sputtered and coughed, sweat pouring down her forehead. Her eyes met his, and she lifted her head off the ground. "I don't want to die," she croaked, her voice so hoarse he could barely understand her. "I want to live."

A medic placed the oxygen mask over her face again. Her head fell back, and he stared at her grimy face, at burn marks left on her cheeks. "You're not going to die," he told her.

The paramedics lifted her onto a gurney and then onto the back of the ambulance, and this time he made sure he went with her. As the ambulance lurched forward, one of the medics said, "She's hoarse, we need to intubate."

She squirmed, but they held her still and forced the tube down her throat. Elliot moved in close so he could stroke her hair. Her eyes were still open, staring back at him, and he took that as a good sign.

But then the same medic said, "Oxygen levels dropping. BP's following."

Her eyelids sagged. "No, Liv. Stay with me." She kept her gaze on him, but the light in her eyes began to go out, and she closed them completely now. "No no no, Liv. Stay with me."

But she wouldn't respond, and this time it wasn't because she didn't want to. The ambulance pulled up to the hospital, and they wheeled her out, shouting at nurses for assistance.

They made him stand to the side, and then took her away from him. He threw his hands to his head. "Oh, God, Liv. Please be okay."

Part 2.

Barba was waiting with Elliot now, and Carisi walked down the hallway to them, arriving at the same time as a nurse who emerged from Olivia's room. "Are you the family?" she said to all of them.

Elliot looked at their shocked faces, and said, "Yeah. We're her family."

"Okay," she said. "I have some bad news. She inhaled a lot of smoke, and her oxygen levels dropped dangerously low. Her vitals are stable for now, but she's in a coma."

"What?" Elliot slapped his forehead. "For how long?"

The nurse shook her head. "Could be hours, could be days, could be much longer. We really have no way of knowing, although we'll do some tests tomorrow to measure the damage to her lungs. That being said, you can visit with her for a few minutes, and then we have to move her to ICU."

They went in the room, and nothing could have prepared Elliot. Tubes extended from her mouth and arms, and a breathing machine pumped air into her lungs. Her face was covered with burn marks, and her eyes stayed shut.

Barba approached her first, taking her hand while he stared at her face. Carisi did the same when it was his turn, his eyebrows lowered in sadness. He cast a glance at Elliot, who stepped to her side.

He picked up her hand and examined her long, slender fingers. Then he said, "Guys, can you give me a minute?"

He saw them leave out of his peripheral vision, and then he sat down next to her. Stroking her hand, he said, "Liv, I'm so sorry."

She didn't move, didn't show any signs that she even knew he was there. He kissed her hand, and then pressed it into his cheek. "I should have been here." He looked up and away, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "I'm so stupid."

Then he watched her face again, both of his hands grasping hers. "If I had, maybe none of this would have ever happened."

After sitting by her side for long minutes, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll see you in ICU."

Part 3.

He sat by her side all night, listening to the damn machine breathing for her. He sucked down the rest of his coffee and prepared to go get some more. It was going to be a long night. Rollins had taken Noah in again, but Elliot wished that he could be kept up by the crying child instead of worrying about whether Olivia was going to make it through the next few hours.

He picked up her hand again. "I'm not going far, Olivia. I'm just leaving to—"

As soon as the words came out, she gripped his hand so tight he thought he might lose feeling. "Liv? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and he called out, "Nurse! Somebody—she's awake." He turned his attention back to her. She was drowsy but blinking at him. "Liv, squeeze once if you can hear me."

She squeezed. And then she started to squirm, and her eyes widened. "No, Liv. Don't try to move. And don't try to breathe. There's a tube."

She stopped moving and locked eyes with him. He stroked her hair away from her eyes. "You're okay," he whispered. "You're going to be okay. Just relax."

She nodded once, and her grip relaxed. "It's all going to be okay now." He smiled, trying to hold back tears. "You're going to be alright."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Thirteen

Part 1.

The next morning, a nurse removed the breathing tube from Olivia's throat, and she could finally roll over on her side. She was getting used to Elliot being there all the time, and she didn't mind at all. He was so good to her, bringing her water, helping her to the bathroom, talking soothingly to her.

None of it was serious talk. He relayed gossip he'd picked up since he came back—how he thought Carisi and Amanda had "a thing," how Barba talked too fast for him to keep up, how Fin was still smooth with the ladies even though he was getting up in years. Apparently, he just wanted to keep her engaged, no matter how trivial the subject.

She would smile when he talked, although she didn't talk back. She had lost her voice completely, and nobody could tell her when it would come back.

As she came back into the world, she realized she was no longer a part of it. Emptiness had begun to consume her soul, and it was hard to stay with the living, breathing people who existed. She held onto Elliot like a lifeline, but she had a hard time focusing on his words when he spoke. Instead, she found herself lost in alternate settings, imaginary but real places that contained evil men who wanted to own her and use her until every part of her was gone.

The hospital sent her home the day after the breathing tube was removed. Elliot continued to pamper her, fixing her food, making sure she had a blanket, helping her recline on the couch. She insisted on a shower—not a bath, partially because of her burns, but also because she couldn't stand the sight of her own body. Her own nudity brought her right back to the hotel room she had escaped.

Right before she went to bed, she rasped, "Where's the cream? I have to put it on my burns."

Her arm had been solidly wrapped—the doctors had said it was miracle that she only had second degree burns in that one place. But she had to tend to all her other burns, covering them in antibiotic ointment so they wouldn't get infected. Elliot came in her bedroom right as she was applying the lotion to her face. "Need any help?" he said.

She paused, because she knew that she did. But she closed her eyes at the thought of him touching her bare skin. She trusted him. But that was a new level of trust, one she knew he wouldn't abuse. But the idea made her chest tighten nonetheless. "Yeah, sure," she whispered, still unable to talk.

She crawled under the sheets with her robe still on, and then she pulled the robe down so her bare shoulders were exposed.

His fingers found the wounds, and then he got to work gently rubbing the cream into each spot. She winced once, and he said, "Sorry," and lightened his touch. After he had found all the places on her back and shoulders, he worked on her arms. He didn't have to—she could reach those places, but she didn't object.

He finished by rubbing her shoulders lightly, careful to avoid any sensitive areas. For a moment, his fingers brought her back to safe, loving hands that only brought her pleasure, only existing to serve her. She sighed gratefully, relaxing fully into his touch. He finished with a soft pat to the back of her neck and a light caress of her hair. "Thank you," she whispered.

Part 2.

The next day, she got fully dressed, because Barba was coming to visit. She had a feeling it was more than just a social visit.

Still, he embraced her warmly, wrapping his arms around her and whispering into her ear, "I'm so glad you're okay. You had us all worried."

She sat down on the couch, and Elliot planted himself next to her. Barba took the chair. She almost felt human again, with all the love surrounding her.

"IAB has been bugging me to talk to you." Barba leaned forward. "I've been trying to hold them off as long as possible, but they want answers. I told them you're still recovering, that you can't talk yet."

"Which is true," added Elliot.

"Yes, it is," said Barba. "But I just wanted to warn you, so you can start to prepare."

"Prepare?" said Elliot, a little too loud. "For what?"

Barba shook his head. It's probably nothing, but they just want to make sure nothing…inappropriate happened."

Olivia could feel Elliot's muscles tensing next to her. "Like what?" he said.

Olivia put a hand on his arm to calm him. Her voice gravelly, she said, "They want to know who started the fire."

Barba shifted in his seat. "Well…yeah. They say there were no signs of a lighter or matches anywhere near him or the other victims."

"Victims?" she said, her heart starting to race. For the first time, she remembered all the other people in the building when she dropped that match. They were all involved in the sex trafficking ring, but only Groves threatened her directly. That made her…a mass murderer.

She buried her face in her hands. Barba said, "Olivia, did you light the match?"

 _The match. The one that started the fire that burned all those people alive._ "Oh God. How many people died?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"How many?" She tried to yell, but her voice was too hoarse.

"Twenty-six. But you can't think about that, Olivia. The important part is why. Was Groves threatening you? They found a gun."

She nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "He had a gun pointed at me and Rylee. I talked him into letting Rylee go, but he still aimed his gun at me."

Elliot rubbed her back. Barba said, "Okay, it was justified. You're off the hook, Olivia. You just have to tell them what happened."

Her hands started to shake. Barba stood to leave, and she followed him to the door. "Thanks for the heads-up, Barba."

"No problem." He touched her arm one more time, and then he left.

She turned around, and Elliot was right there, facing her. "You okay?"

She shook her head, and he pulled her into him. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. "It'll be fine," he whispered.

She pulled away and said, "No, it's not fine. I killed those men, Elliot. I didn't have to drop that match."

He scratched the back of his head. "Let's see—you were held hostage, tied up, and had a gun pointed at you. Not to mention the fact that you were heavily drugged, and just got through suffering multiple major traumas."

Her lips tightened. "I didn't have to drop the match."

He grabbed her by the arms, and she half expected him to shake her, but he didn't. "Olivia, what was your other choice? To be held at gunpoint? He was going to _kill_ you." He lifted her chin so that she could see his eyes. "Olivia Benson, it was not your fault."

Her mouth started to quiver, and she leaned into him, taking in the feeling of his arms enfolding her, protecting her. He held her head in one hand, and then kissed the top of her hair. "It wasn't your fault."

She closed her eyes, and her spine tingled at the touch of his fingers. One more time, he said, "It wasn't your fault." She tried to hold onto those words, so she could believe them. And then she relaxed into his embrace, nestling her face into his chest. She just wanted to stay like this forever.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Comments:**_ _A little EO makes everything better. Oh, and I wanted to address a comment (nothing bad). 1. I can only write about 1000 words a day, so I have a choice to either update less often or to update daily with short chapters. If short chapters bother you, I suggest waiting about three days and then reading what you missed. 2. Oh, there is angst coming. I love it, so there will be angst-aplenty. Remember that Olivia still hasn't had a chance to process what happened to her, but I felt she was at a such a stand-still that she needed something to light a fire under her ass, pun intended, lol._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Fourteen

Part 1.

Elliot put Noah to bed, and for the first time, Olivia didn't feel guilty about it. She was exhausted, tight knots forming in her gut as she thought about the interrogation she had to endure tomorrow. She hadn't even asked for an attorney, but Elliot would be able to sit in, so she could fill in the details for the FBI's case. Her voice was still scratchy, but she could speak out loud now and be understood.

It had been a week since Barba gave her the news about IAB. In that time, she had thought about Tucker about a million times. If he was here, he would be able to make this go away. Then again, if anyone found out about their relationship, he wouldn't be involved in her case at all.

She sighed. She was tired of worrying about it. Her arm still hurt from the burns, and her anxiety meds made her sleepy again. Elliot came up behind her and gently grabbed her shoulders. She jumped, but quickly relaxed. "He's asleep," said Elliot.

"You have the magic touch." She turned to face him. "You've done so much, Elliot. I don't think I can ever repay—"

"Shh." He touched her lips with one finger. "You don't have to do anything. I just want you to feel better, and I'll do whatever it takes."

She looked down. "What if I never…"

He grabbed her hands. "Whatever happens, I'm here. Don't worry about what's going to happen. Just relax."

He brushed her hair back from her shoulders. She looked into his eyes now, and they sparkled with…something. It looked like admiration, the way his lips turned up in the corners. How could he admire her, after everything she had done?

But he massaged her shoulders, and she forgot about all that. She half-closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his fingers. Then she caressed his cheek. "I don't deserve you," she said.

"Are you kidding me? You're amazing, Olivia. I'm lucky I got to be in your life again."

She felt the bulge of his muscles as he enfolded her in his arms, and she felt safe. With her eyes still locked on him, a shudder rose up her spine and settled in her chest. "El," she said, but she didn't want to say anything else. She only wanted his lips on hers, and she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips buzzed as his mouth pressed softly against hers.

She pulled away and licked her lips. "Mmm," she moaned softly.

His eyes widened. "I wasn't expecting that." He smiled. "That was nice."

She smiled too, watching the stars in his eyes, and imagined for a second a happy future with him. And then her smile evaporated as she realized that a joyful ending was not in her story.

"What's wrong?" He stroked her hair. "Too soon?"

"No." She looked down. "I'm just tired. I better get some sleep for tomorrow."

He gave her one more peck on the top of the head, and then disappeared into the living room to sleep on the couch again. He seemed so far away, even in the same apartment.

Part 2.

They sat in the interrogation room, lights blaring in their eyes. Olivia was across the table from Elliot, and next to him was an IAB officer named Terry. Elliot could tell Olivia was scared, although she hid it from everyone else. Her leg fidgeted, and there was a hint of frozen terror in her eyes.

Terry turned on the recorder. He asked his introductory questions, and then he asked her to tell what happened in the warehouse. When she got to the part about the fire, Terry said, "So you got completely free, and then you dropped the match that started the fire?"

"Yes." She put on her most professional front. "He had a gun trained on me."

"So you decided to take out everyone in the warehouse, not just him."

She shuddered. Elliot just wanted to rush to her and hold her—she shouldn't have to relive this. "It was either drop the match, or he was going to kill me. I knew Rylee had gotten away, and—"

"Did you? She could have been recaptured by someone else, and then she would have been caught inside as well."

Olivia looked down at the floor, like she was spacing out. Elliot felt the need to jump in. "But you thought she was out of the building."

Olivia looked up. "Yeah."

Terry took a different tact. "Those men in the building, some of them are the same ones you accused of using you as a sex slave?"

She whispered, "Yeah."

Elliot balled up his fists. He knew she wouldn't want to talk about this. But Terry kept on, relentless. "And what exactly were those allegations again? If I recall, they were pretty brutal."

She sighed heavily. "John Groves kidnapped me at gunpoint, held me against my will in a hotel room, threatened an underage girl to control me, and forced me to be a sex slave, yes."

"And some of the men in the warehouse were the same ones who forced themselves on you?"

Olivia's eyelids closed halfway and her eyes glazed over, and Elliot wondered if this was going to throw her back into a catatonic state. He said to Terry, "Do we need to go into details about this?"

"It's relative to her state of mind."

"She's not on trial."

"We need all the facts now to determine if charges are warranted."

Elliot said to Olivia, "Don't answer, Liv. Let's get you a representative."

"No." She waved her hand. "They want to know what happened, I'll tell them." She trained her eyes on Terry. "I was handcuffed to a bed. Men came in all day long, all night, and had sex—I mean, raped me. Every single day I was assaulted. Some of those men were in that warehouse, yes."

The silence that followed made Elliot want to slam his fist on the table to stop this interrogation right here and now. But he didn't, and Terry said, "So then, Lieutenant Benson, would you say that you wished some of those men dead?"

Olivia looked up at the corner of the room and shook her head. "What do you want me to say? I hadn't really thought about them living or dying. I was too busy contemplating my own death, and whether I wanted to go out in a burst of flames or by gunshot. I chose fire."

 _Good_ , Elliot thought. That ought to put to rest any theories that her actions were premeditated. But he knew none of this was really good for her—this whole line of questioning had opened up memories that she probably wanted to suppress for good.

She answered a few more questions, her voice shaking, and then she said, "Are we done here?"

"Yeah."

As soon as he said it, she stood, her chair scraping the floor, and hustled out the door. He followed her, but she didn't stop at first, and he wondered if he would be following her all the way home. But she stopped at the end of the hallway and turned to face him. Now he could see her panting, her face scrunched up, tears wetting her cheeks.

"Liv," he said, and pulled her into him.

She buried her face in his shoulder and shook with sobs. "Ah, Liv," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He held her there, allowing her to empty all her pent-up tears onto his chest. As he stroked her hair, he thought this wasn't enough to console her—what she had been through couldn't be fixed through simple things like hugs and kind words. But it was all he could offer right now, and she accepted it.

She stayed wrapped in his arms for several minutes, and then finally she pulled away. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Shh." He held her head in his hands and brushed tears away with his thumbs. "Don't be sorry. None of this is easy. You'd have to have a heart of stone not to let it out."

That must have satisfied her, because she lay her head back on his chest, and stayed like that until the last bit of light disappeared outside. He didn't move, just kept her in his arms, wanting to shield her from all the evils of the world, wishing he could have done it sooner.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Comments:**_ _BTW, thank you to everyone who wrote a review, I appreciate them!_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Fifteen

Part 1.

"I thought it would be over after the men who assaulted me were gone. But it only seems to get worse."

Dr. Lindstrom cocked his head. "It's the same thing that happened when Lewis died, Olivia. You keep holding on to the trauma even after the threat is gone."

"But I can't do anything about that, when the memories won't go away."

He leaned forward. "They will eventually, Olivia. Just keep going, one step at a time. Just like last time."

She covered her mouth and looked away, trying to contain the tears. "It's different," she said quietly. She leaned back and began to bite her nails.

His tone softened. "How is it different?"

He wouldn't know. She had barely told him anything, and she usually told him everything. But the details were too horrific to repeat, the shame too deep. "It just is," she said, looking him in the eyes.

Now she stared down at her hands, but she could hear his clothes rustle as he shifted in his seat. The sound reminded her of men who took off their three-piece suits just before they lay on top of her. She took the memory through to its conclusion, and now someone was turning her over in the bed, and she was whimpering in pain, almost too weak to hold herself up. But a hand grasped her belly, pulling her toward the probing body behind her.

"Liv? Liv, are you with me?"

"Huh?"

"I asked you if there were things you could do to take to soothe yourself. I think I lost you."

"Um…yeah. I can try."

"Do you want to go over a plan?"

"No, that's okay." She stood abruptly. "I think I better…maybe I should go."

He lowered his eyebrows. "You sure? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice hushed. "Fine, I just need to…need to go."

He stood now as well. "Okay, Olivia, you take care of yourself."

She brushed past him without hugging him or even looking him in the eye. "I will."

Part 2.

She entered her apartment wary, as usual. Elliot came out of Noah's bedroom, and she rested her hand on her gun, but didn't pull it. She had learned her lesson with Brian.

He watched her hand as she removed it from her gun. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay. Come here."

She accepted his invitation and savored his arms cradling her, his hands caressing her back. She moaned. It had been a month since she escaped the hotel, one month of his hands on her, and for the first time she felt something stirring within her. A part of her was putting up stop signs, but she wanted so bad to let go, just surrender to the pleasure. So she kissed him—passionately, pressing her lips hard on his, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

He kissed her back, and now his fingers lightly massaged her scalp, and she melted. She pressed her body hard into his, and he moaned. But then he stopped. "Liv," he said, his voice low and longing. "I want this so bad. But are you sure you're ready?"

She closed her eyes, enjoying his hot breath in her ear. "Yes, El. I want this."

He cast her a worried glance, and then his face relaxed. He pulled her tight to her, flexing his muscles against her back. And then he picked her up and carried her honeymoon style into her bedroom, and deposited her gently on the bed.

Climbing in next to her, he consumed her, kissing her lips and her neck and her ears. She soaked it in, pulling herself against his body. He pushed his knee against her crotch, and she nearly swooned. "Oh, God, El."

He took the words as an invitation, and his hands explored her body. They moved over her breasts, removed her shirt and bra, and brushed over her bare nipples. He shoved his crotch into her hip, and his erection grinded into her. Tingles shot up her thighs and into the base of her spine. She stopped moving, but allowed his hands to reach every part of her.

He pulled off her pants, and then his, and lay on top of her, and now she turned her head until she was staring at the dresser. He stroked her hair, but stopped moving. "Liv?"

She didn't answer, just blinked. "Liv, are you okay?"

Now he crawled off her, and just lay beside her, brushing her hair from her eyes with his thumb. "Liv, talk to me. Are you with me?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm sorry, El."

"It's okay," he whispered.

"No, no it's not." She rolled on her side to face him, and pulled the sheets over her. "None of this is okay."

"You're right," he said, caressing her face. "Nobody should have to go through that."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just want to be normal again. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair."

Elliot sat up. He seemed almost relieved by her sudden burst of anger, as if he expected it. "No, it's not fair."

She sat up and growled. "You don't get it, Elliot. It's not that I can't get turned on—"

"I don't care about that, Liv."

"But I do. Don't you understand? I liked you touching me. I wanted it. I _got_ aroused." She choked up. "I got aroused."

Elliot got quiet for a moment, and then said, "You got aroused…when those men…"

"No!" She covered her face. "Not all. Just a couple." She hissed, "What does that say about me?"

Elliot faced her, but didn't touch her, and she was glad. She didn't want her body to respond anymore, to anything. "All it says about you is that you're human. You can't help it that you had a physiological response."

She rocked back and forth, shaking her head. "Those assholes ruined my life. They ruined it. They made it so that I can never enjoy sex again." Still rocking, she seethed between her teeth, "I hate this. I hate my body. I hate it."

She rose from the bed, and Elliot tried to grab her, but he couldn't reach her. "Liv…"

Tears of rage poured from her as she paced. Flaming heat rose to her chest, and then to her face. She just wanted to stop feeling any sensations that might betray her. Arousal was her enemy, and she had to stop it. "I _hate_ my body!"

She thought her chest might explode from the storm of anger inside, and she had to do _something_ to stop her skin from crawling. Her gaze rested on a pair of fingernail scissors on her dresser. She picked them up and stabbed them into her leg, and then dragged them through her flesh, carving a line that shot glorious streaks of painful bliss through her. The sting was a release, and a relief.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" Elliot yelled, springing out of bed. He threw his arms around her, grabbing her wrists. She fought him, still digging the scissors into her skin. As she struggled against his grip, he wrestled her hand away from her leg. "Stop, Olivia!"

She looked up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and saw a madwoman she didn't recognize—teeth gritted, downturned lips, tight wrinkles in her forehead, spittle flying from her mouth as she screamed, "Let me go!"

"I'm not going to let you hurt yourself!" Elliot held onto her as she struggled, and eventually all her willpower drained out, leaving her exhausted. She stopped wriggling and went limp in his arms. "Are you finished?" he said quietly.

"Yeah," she huffed. "Yeah, I'm done."

Gently, he took the scissors out of her hand and tucked them away in a drawer. She didn't move, just stared off. He guided her gently to the bed, and she sat down without resisting.

He sat down next to her. She ignored the gaping wound in her leg, knowing it was probably gushing blood all over her bed. "Liv," said Elliot, clamping a rag down onto her wound. "You have a problem. You need help."

All her anger drained from her now, and she started to cry. "I'm sorry, Elliot. Please don't leave me."

"What? Why would I leave?"

She rocked again, squeezing her hands between her knees. "You will. You'll get sick of me. You have to go back to Albany sometime, don't you?"

He grew silent, and she knew it was true. But then he said, "I'm wrapping up this case right now, and then I plan on taking a few weeks off. I'm not going anywhere, Liv."

She shook her head, wiping tears from her cheek. "No, you won't stay. I'll chase you away, and I don't deserve it anyway. Nobody ever stays. Nothing good ever lasts in my life."

He put an arm around her. "Shh. I promise, Liv. I'm not going to leave. And yes, you do deserve good in your life."

She shook her head again, barely able to get the words out through the tears. "I feel worthless. I'm nothing more than a whore now."

He pulled her close. "You're not. You were forced, Liv. You didn't have a choice."

In theory, he was right. But her heart couldn't accept the truth in the words. Her soul had changed, and not in a good way. Every sensation in her body reminded her that she was nothing more than a sex tool for hungry perverts now.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Sixteen

Part 1.

"Thank you for coming, Doctor."

"Please, call me Peter."

Elliot stood with Dr. Lindstrom in the hallway so they could talk without Olivia hearing. "Peter. She's lost it. I've seen her with a short temper before, but never so enraged."

"What happened?"  
"She hurt herself last night."

The doctor's eyebrows lowered. "How?"

"She got upset and stabbed a pair of fingernail scissors into her leg. She would have done much worse damage if I hadn't stopped her."

"She's self-injuring. I was afraid she was in a bad place. She's been very withdrawn lately, and she usually has no trouble sharing, at least with me."

"What are you going to do?" said Elliot, shifting his feet. He was afraid that she was only in the beginning stages of her madness, and he didn't even want to think of what she was capable of. She had burned down an entire warehouse, with people in it, and now he started to realize that she might not have cared if she perished in the fire. The thought sent chills down his spine.

"The only thing I can do right now is talk to her. I can't put her on a seventy-two hour hold unless she says she's suicidal."

"I don't think she would go for being locked up anyway."

Dr. Lindstrom locked eyes with him. "She might not have a choice. But let's try to help her before it gets to that."

Part 2.

A man twice her size squashed her, pumping her so hard that it made her cringe. She wanted to cry, but no tears came out. Her body was no longer hers. It belonged to this guy, and the next, and the next. It was a community body, available to anybody who wanted it, and she no longer had a voice.

"Olivia? You still with me?" asked the doctor.

She jolted at the sound of his voice. "What? Y-yeah. I'm fine."

She had allowed Elliot to stay because she felt safer with him there. Not that she was afraid of her own therapist. But she was jumpy in general, and Elliot managed to take some of the edge off.

"I—I don't know what to say. I have no idea what to tell you." This was bullshit, and she knew it. But her skin crawled at the idea of rehashing old wounds.

Dr. Lindstrom leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why don't you just start with how you're feeling right now, in this moment?"

Her leg throbbed as a reminder of why he was here. "Numb. I feel nothing. Which is how I feel ninety-nine percent of the time."

His stare was relentless, but his eyes were kind. "And I can understand that. But you felt something tonight, right?"

She nodded slowly. "I did. But I don't want to talk about that."

He only missed a beat before he said, "Do you want to tell me why not?"

She refused to meet his gaze and blinked back tears. "Because I'm afraid that if I let that tiny amount of pain out, I'll lose control of it, and it will flood me until I drown in my own misery."

He leaned back. "Ah. Now we're getting somewhere." He shifted in his seat. "Here's my problem, Olivia. You hurt yourself tonight. As your therapist, I can't in good conscience let that go without addressing it. It means you have tremendous pain hiding in there, and that might lead to…even worse."

She felt the tears threatening to overflow, but she held them back with a wall of willpower. He pulled a paper out of his briefcase and handed it to her. "So I'm going to ask you to sign this, Olivia. It says you promise not to harm yourself in any way, including suicide." She looked directly at him now. Did he really think…? "It has a list of names and numbers to call, in case there's nobody here with you, and my private cell phone number is on it. Will you sign it?"

She nodded unevenly, but the whole conversation made her feel like a mental patient. She guessed that she had brought that on herself, though.

He handed her the pen, and she quickly scribbled her signature on it.

After he left, she let Elliot sit next to her and rub her back. She wanted him so bad right now, wanted the touch on her skin, but she couldn't feel it. She had blocked off every nerve, and she no longer felt anything at all. Pain and pleasure were the same now, and it was best to have neither, because all roads led to a deep dark pit in her chest.

"El," she said, emotionless. "There's something I want to give you."

"What is it?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

She reached behind her neck and unfastened her favorite necklace, and then handed it to him. He held it, fingering it as if he had never seen one before. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Just…as a gift for being here for me so much." She forced herself to look into his eyes and lie to him. "It would mean a lot to me for you to have it."

He rubbed his chin, staring at the unexpected present. "You sure? I think it looks a lot better on you."

He smiled at his own joke, but she didn't smile back. "You don't have to wear it. Just take it, okay?"

He looked confused, but he said, "Okay, Liv, whatever you want."

Part 3.

"You'll never guess what I found, Olivia." She had been so distant, so withdrawn, and he kept trying to come up with ways to make her smile again. He had bought her flowers, and gone to a new Chinese place to get them dinner. Then he'd bought a bottle of merlot, a rare brand that he knew she liked. He had just set foot in the door, and he scanned the room for her. He saw her sitting on the living room chair, and he set down his bags and started toward her. "I found—"

He froze when he got a good look at her. She sat with her hands lying on the armrests, one of them gripping her pistol, her finger resting on the trigger. She stared straight ahead at him, but she didn't seem to see him, her eyes glazed and trance-like. He gulped. "Liv, what's going on?"

Her gun was pointed straight ahead, but it was not aimed at him. She spoke in a hushed tone. "I didn't think you'd be back by now."

His chest pounded now, his breathing heavy and fast. "Liv, what are you doing?"

He tried to take a few steps toward her. Her eyes widened and she brought the gun to her temple while cocking the hammer. "Stop right there, Elliot."

He put his hands out in front of him. "Olivia, you don't want to do this."

But her lowered eyes showed nothing but determination. "I didn't want you to see this, El. Turn your head."

He refused to look away, and instead inched toward her, his hands out in front of him. "Don't do it, Liv. Noah is just in the other room. What would happen to him?"

Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "He'd get over me."

He tried unsuccessfully to keep sarcastic anger out of his voice. "Oh? You think so? And what about me?"

"I've known you eighteen years, El. When have you ever needed me?"

He kept trying to scoot forward slowly enough so she wouldn't notice. "I was your partner for twelve years. Of course I needed you."

She kept the barrel planted firmly against her head. "Then you ghosted me for six. Seems like you got by pretty well."

He clamped his lips shut, but gingerly shuffled forward a few more inches. "Point taken. But if you're going to hurt me like this, can I at least get a reason why?"

Her voice was low, in a sad, mournful key he had never heard before. "You know why."

He wasn't quite close enough to lunge for her gun, but he was close enough to see her hand shaking. She could still get off a good shot, but her tremor would make the bullet less likely to connect. He said, "PTSD is something you can get over with time, Olivia. You know this. Please, for me, for Noah, for all the other people who care about you, just give yourself a chance to heal."

"I've had PTSD before. The flashbacks, the nightmares. But my life is over, Elliot. The person I was no longer exists, and she's never coming back." Tears made her eyes shimmer, and he thought, _How beautiful_. _Please don't make them close forever._ Her voice quivered. "All that's left, is emptiness and pain."

His heart sank into his stomach. She was serious about this, and he was still a few feet away. "Liv, please," he said quietly. "I love you."

Her cheeks wet with tears, her lips turned down in a grimace, she said, "I love you too, Elliot. I'm sorry."

She started to slide the gun behind her head, and he knew what she was doing. Bullet wounds were more fatal to the back of the skull. "No!" he screamed, and leaped forward.

He landed on her hard, knocking her gun hand back, but not before a shot rang out, deafening him. The gun fell behind her, and for one second that seemed like an hour, she lay unmoving underneath him. Then she squirmed, and he could breathe again, although his pulse still raced.

He backed up, still straddling her, and now he saw her face, scrunched up in what looked like a combination of anger and terror. "No!" she screamed. "Why, why, why?"

He threw his arms around her, partly to stop her from getting up and going after the gun again, but also to comfort her, and then just out of gratitude and relief for her still wriggling and very much alive. She pounded on his chest as she wept. "Why didn't you let me?"

He grabbed her wrists. "Shhh…"

For the first time, he recognized another sound, this one from the other room, of Noah crying out. "Mommy!" he shouted over and over, drawing out her name in long howls.

But he couldn't go to Noah, not just yet. He had to stay with her, make sure she wasn't going to do anything else.

She finally gave up fighting him, and now her body violently wracked with sobs. He pulled her into him, holding her as close to his body as he could, absorbing her shudders into his chest. Noah still screamed in the background, along with sirens. Soon a knock came on the door, and a voice yelled, "Police! Open up!"


	17. Chapter 17

_**Comments:**_ _Angsty enough for you yet? Lol I decided the direction I'm going from here, and…well, just, wow._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Seventeen

Part 1.

Olivia cried so hard that she couldn't breathe, and her body convulsed uncontrollably against Elliot. Just like she had told Dr. Lindstrom, once the dam of tears broke, she couldn't bottle them back up. Police were knocking at the door, but she was too focused on her own misery to deal with them.

But Elliot backed up, and then knelt before her, serious lines forming in his forehead. "They're going to lock you up if they find out what happened. I won't let that happen as long as you meet with Dr. Lindstrom tonight, to figure out a plan. Deal?"

She nodded, still panting, trying to stop her tears by gulping intermittent deep breaths. He grasped her arm. "Let me talk to them, okay? You don't move."

"Okay," she mumbled, her sobs transforming into sniffles.

He walked behind the couch and picked up her revolver, and then shoved it in his jacket. She wiped her eyes the best she could, but the tears kept coming, and she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

Elliot went to the door and answered. She could hear the conversation, but refused to look up. "Can I help you?" Elliot asked.

"We got calls about shots fired at this residence."

"No, nothing like that happened. Oh, wait, maybe they heard the cooking pot that I dropped on the kitchen floor. It was really loud."

Olivia sensed that the officer was getting a little too curious, and she tried to wipe the tears from her face, hoping her cheeks weren't too red and puffy. The uni said, "Can we come in and look around?"

"Um, I'd rather not. My girlfriend's kid is screaming, I need to go get him."

"Sir, is there anyone else here?"

Olivia stood up. "I'm here," she said as she walked to the door. The officer took one look at her face, and his brow lowered. She embraced her returning numbness, and she felt her face relax. "Everything's fine, Sir. I'm with NYPD, too. Lieutenant Benson. We just had a fight, but nothing happened—nobody's hurt."

Elliot and the cop both stared at her, and she had a feeling the officer wasn't convinced. She held her bare arms out and said, "See, look, no injuries, nothing on my face. I know you have to check, but it didn't get physical. Everything's fine. Can I go get my son now?"

"Y-yeah."

Part 2.

Dr. Lindstrom came straight to her apartment after Elliot made a phone call. She had just put Noah down, and she was closest to the door. She opened it, and he was dressed up in a sports jacket. She said, "Did I interrupt your evening? I'm so sorry, Peter."

He grasped her hands. "No, no, it's okay, Olivia. I was just out for a bite, but I was finished."

He came in and followed her to the living room. She sat on the couch, gripping the edges. Elliot shook hands with the doctor, who took a chair and started to speak.

"Peter," she interrupted. He looked her in the eye. She sighed. "I'm so sorry I broke our contract," she said, choking up.

He leaned forward and tapped her knee. "Hey, Olivia, it's okay. We're not going to dwell on that." Elliot sat next to her and put his arm around her. Dr. Lindstrom continued, "Can you tell me what happened tonight?"

She looked down at her hands between her knees. "I, uh—" Elliot squeezed her shoulder. "I guess I just reached my limit. I gave up."

"And?"

She hated how childlike her voice sounded. "And I picked up my gun, and got ready to shoot myself."

Dr. Lindstrom's voice got quiet. "And what stopped you?"

She looked in Elliot's direction. "Elliot. If he hadn't come in…"

Elliot stroked her arm. Dr. Lindstrom said, "Do you feel like you might try again tonight?"

Her voice broke with tears. "No. But I can't promise—"

"You don't have to. But I want to make sure tonight—"

"I won't." She wiped tears away. "But I don't know how much longer—"

"Let's just take one day at a time, okay?" She nodded. Dr. Lindstrom continued. "Are you ready to talk?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah. I feel like I don't deserve to live."

"Why?"

She rubbed her knees. "Because, in my mind, I'm no longer a person. I don't own my body anymore—it belongs to any man who wants to use it."

"And do you remind yourself that it's not true? That those people are gone?"

"Are they?" Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with him. "How do I know that? There may be others—"

"Even if there were some johns who didn't perish in the fire, they're not going to come after you, Olivia. The men who kidnapped you are gone."

She shook her head. "I try not to go out, because when I do, every man I see is looking at me, whether they really are or not. They're leering, because they _know_ I'm a hooker. And I have no way of knowing whether they were there in that hotel room, because I've blocked most of it out."

"And what do you think those men would do? Grab you in public?"

She tightened her lips. "I don't know. But if they work with the people who ran that ring, they could come after me, because they're hooked up to people as high up as the police commissioner."

"There's nothing you can do about that, Olivia." Dr. Lindstrom scooted forward in his seat. "But I want to make sure you're safe for now. So I want to see you every day until you're not feeling suicidal anymore. Deal?"

She nodded, and then turned to Elliot. "I'm so sorry, El."

He rubbed her back. "I'm not going to lie—you scared me, Liv. But I want you to know, if you had been successful, it would've kill me too."

She looked him the eyes, trying not to unleash a new batch of tears. "Okay. I'll try to be strong, for Noah, and for you."

Part 3.

After the doctor left, Elliot changed Noah's diaper and put him back to bed, and then rushed back to her room. He was terrified that she might make another attempt, even though she had promised him she wouldn't. But she was just coming out of the bathroom in her pajamas, and he sighed in relief.

He helped her into bed and tucked her in. Then he leaned in and kissed her forehead, and when he pulled away she was frowning. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." She looked away. "I just know…you're going away soon, aren't you?"

"Shh." He pulled her sheets up to her chin. "Don't you worry about that right now. I'll work something out."

She pulled a hand out from under the sheets and grabbed one of his. Then she rolled over on her side and closed her eyes.

He got up and turned off the lights, but he stood in the doorway and stared at her for several minutes before retreating to the living room.

He heard moaning in the middle of the night, and it was her. He went to her bed, and she was mumbling something, her voice low and desperate. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but she ended with, "No."

Then her hands started pushing against some invisible force, and he felt the need to jump in and calm her. He didn't touch her, just said softly, "Liv, wake up. Liv."

She shook her head a few times, and then she opened her eyes. Startled, she jumped back, away from him. "It's me," he said. "It's Elliot."

"El?" Her voice shook. Then she scooted toward him, and he caressed her arm. Looking up at him, she said softly, "Could you…sleep next to me?"

"Of course."

She scooted over to make room, and he settled in next to her. He faced her, and she nestled into his body, wrapping her arm around him. He did the same, and lay there with his body against hers, feeling her tremble until she finally fell asleep. He never did sleep, though, feeling that he needed to protect her from the evils of the night, including her own newfound hatred of herself.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Eighteen

Part 1.

Shame welled up in Olivia's chest as she flashed back to the moment when the gun went off. Elliot fell on top of her, and the gun landed with a thud behind the chair, and for a moment she thought she was dead. But then she realized the bullet had not met its target, knocked just far enough off course that she didn't experience the peaceful bliss she had desired.

"Liv, you okay?" Her attention snapped back into awareness, and she looked at Barba.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine."

He had come to visit today, one day after her suicide attempt, without knowing how close she had come to death. Elliot had left them alone. "Good. I've been wondering how you were doing."

"I'm good. I'm…better," she lied.

"Great, because I have some good news for you, Miss Olivia. IAB has dropped their investigation into the warehouse fire, and they've ruled it an accident. The DA is not going to prosecute."

She half-smiled. "That's great, Barba."

His brow formed creases. "Okay. Well, I also came here on business. We've rounded up an individual who has ties to the prostitution ring that kidnapped you. We're prosecuting based solely on witness testimony, and I was wondering if he was one of your…clients, at the hotel."

She exhaled. "I don't know if I can—"

"Can you please look at some pictures?"

She paused, but then said, "Okay, yeah."

He handed her an ipad, and she flipped through some pictures. She got to one face, and it seemed familiar. She closed her eyes and sighed. Bits of memories came up—of men groping her, hurting her, penetrating her…

She opened her eyes. "I can't…" She handed back the tablet. "All I get is flashes. I can't name anybody. It's all jumbled."

Barba stood, and came to pat her on the shoulder. "It's okay, Liv. It was brave of you to look."

Part 2.

Dr. Lindstrom came by later in the afternoon, and greeted her with a hearty hug. "I'm so glad to see you, Olivia."

Olivia blushed, thinking about how horrible it must be for him, as her therapist right now. "It's good to see you too." Before they even made it to the couch, she said, "I have something I want to try."

He sat on the chair. "What is it?"

She paused, and then said, "I don't know how you're going to feel about it. But I got the idea when Barba told me I might be able to help lock up a suspect if I could testify against him as one of the johns in the hotel." She could tell from his smirk that he was wary already. She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "I can't remember most of what happened to me, and I want to."

He cut in. "But why, Olivia? Why would you _want_ to remember?"

Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Because, if I could see their faces, I would know who to be on the lookout for." She scooted to the edge of the couch. "Besides, what if I could help lock some of them up?"

"I thought you had decided not to testify, Olivia."

"It would depend on the case. Anyway, I looked up hypnotic regression, and—"

Dr. Lindstrom waved his hands in front of him. "Absolutely not. I don't see that doing anything but re-traumatizing you."

"But at least I would know who my attackers were—"

He leaned forward. "I'm not doing it, Olivia. It's way too dangerous, when your emotions are already so fragile."

She glared at him. "I'm doing this, Peter, with your help or without. I'll go somewhere else."

"No, no, no. Just stop." They stared one another down like two gunfighters. Then he said, "Fine. If you're going to do it anyway, I'll do it. I'll try to help you reframe the trauma while we're at it. Maybe it can soften the pain, if it doesn't drive you over the edge of sanity."

She smiled sadly. "Thank you. I know I'm not the easiest patient."

"But your one of my favorites anyway."

Part 3.

The next day, Olivia sat on the couch, her head back against the cushion. She felt Elliot sit down next to her and grab her hand, but she kept her eyes closed. Tight knots formed in her gut, but she wanted, needed, to do this.

Dr. Lindstrom said some words, and she barely heard them, but they must have worked, because she felt peaceful, relaxed, asleep but awake. She heard him say, "And now you're back in that hotel room, confined to the bed."

She was there. Dr. Lindstrom said, "Tell us what you see."

Every muscle tensed. She said, "There's a man in the bed. He's smiling at me."

Dr. Lindstrom's voice was like butter, but her pulse still raced. "Good, Olivia. Get a good look at his face, and then tell me what's going on."

She tried to pull her arms in, but one was still stubbornly attached to the bed. The man pried her knees apart. "He's on top of me," she whispered. She turned her head to the side and pressed it into the cushion. "He's holding my face down. Now he's…Nooo…"

The man entered her, and she moaned. "What's happening, Olivia?" said Dr. Lindstrom.

"He's—he's inside me." She whimpered, "It hurts."

She heard someone else speaking. The man's voice wasn't in the room with her, but somewhere in the distance. "Can we stop this?"

"Yes, I think we should too," said Dr. Lindstrom.

She squirmed and wriggled, but the man never got off her. His breathing was heavy and hard, and she thought he might be close to finishing. But she didn't want that—didn't want his mark left inside her that way. "Stop," she said, her voice desperate and pleading. "Please stop."

"Olivia, you're in a safe place now. You're no longer in the bed."

In a flash, she was back in the room with Elliot and Dr. Lindstrom, and she felt Elliot squeezing her hand tight. She squeezed back, panting for breath.

Dr. Lindstrom said, "You're safe, and that man can no longer hurt you. When you see his face, the image brings you nothing but peace. When I say one, you're going to wake up feeling light and calm. Three…two…one…"

She opened her eyes. Then she blinked. Dr. Lindstrom said, "Are you okay, Olivia?"

"Yeah," she said, lifting her head to join the real world. She looked at Elliot now. His eyes showed so much worry. She leaned into him and buried her head in his shoulder. "I'm fine now. Just fine." Then she sat up, her eyes widening. "I recognized him. That's why he pushed my face into the pillow—he didn't want me to see. It was a police captain."


	19. Chapter 19

_**Comments:**_ _Sorry for the break. I've been working on another project. And it didn't help that my computer wouldn't connect to the Internet for a few days. But it was good to slow things down and think about where I'm going with the story. Consider it an intermission._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Nineteen

Part 1.

Olivia licked her lips, settling her head back into the couch cushions. Every time she did this—sat in this chair and let Dr. Lindstrom take her back—it seemed like she couldn't get enough air. She was amazed that she was even subjecting herself to this again. Despite the doctor's efforts to ease the memories, each session left her weak and trembling. Elliot's long fingers entwined with hers. Dr. Lindstrom said, "And now you're in the hotel."

In an instant, her body stiffened. She pressed her hand into Elliot's and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Please not him."

"Who is it?" said Dr. Lindstrom, leaning forward.

 _Oh God not him._ She couldn't imagine this week of reliving turning worse, but it just got there. Her arms tightened, her knuckles digging into the couch cushions. "It's…Lowell Harris," she said, trying to keep her breath even. "I didn't know he was out."

"Olivia, who's Lowell Harris?" Dr. Lindstrom said the name so innocently, and she wished she could feel the calm he projected in his voice.

She heard Elliot talk as if she wasn't even there, explaining her arrest of Harris and the events leading up to it—at least the parts he knew about. But she was grateful, because she didn't want to have to recount her undercover prison stint. Her heart pounded already from the memory of him and his hard-on cornering her in the dank basement of the prison.

Dr. Lindstrom said, "Olivia, what's happening now?"

Her memory at the hotel room flashed back into existence, and Harris was already pulling off his pants, sneering at her. "He's angry. His eyes…furious. He says he wants to finish what he started." She pressed herself into the couch, hoping to disappear. What was it Dr. Lindstrom had told her to get through these sessions? _Deep breaths._ Murmuring through tight lips, she said, "He's here."

"Olivia?" said Dr. Lindstrom.

But this time, there was no one to stop Harris from forcing himself on her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and knew what it meant to see streaks of stars in the darkness. "He's hurting me…"

She heard Elliot say, "Doctor—?"

Dr. Lindstrom said, "Olivia, wake up."

But she was still there, stuck with Harris' suffocating mass. He pulled her hair, forcing her head back against the pillow. She tried to ask Dr. Lindstrom for help, but Harris' weight on her knocked the words out of her. Her body stiff as a board, she kicked at the floor, trying to push away from him, but his hands, his mouth, his flesh consumed her.

"Olivia, you're safe," said Dr. Lindstrom, his voice desperate. "You're back in your apartment with me in three, two, one."

Her eyes opened, and Elliot's and Dr. Lindstrom's worried faces stared back at her. She panted, her chest clenching. Sweat poured off her, and she just wanted to strip her clothes off and wrap herself tightly in a thick comforter at the same time. She looked away, not wanting them to see the terror in her eyes. "Ah, God," she said, swallowing tears. "Lowell Harris."

Elliot caressed her hand. "It'll be okay, Liv."

"Will it?" She glared at him before standing abruptly. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I need to go shower."

She strode toward the bathroom, but she heard Elliot's footfall behind her. She spun around to face him, but she couldn't look at him, couldn't face him with the heat that rose to her cheeks from shame. "Just leave me alone right now, Elliot."

"Hey," he said gently, soft enough so that the Dr. wouldn't hear. "Liv…" He shifted his feet, and she couldn't handle the awkwardness between them. Just as she was ready to turn and walk away into the isolation of her bedroom, he said, "Do you…want me to just be there with you?"

She still couldn't meet his stare. "I don't need a baby-sitter," she mumbled.

"I don't want to—" He barely touched her shoulder, and she flinched. He dropped his hand. "I just want to help you feel safe. You don't have to say anything."

And she knew immediately then why she hadn't wanted him to talk, with everything brimming so close to the surface. She brought her hands to her face just in time to catch an uncontrollable flood of tears. Elliot put a tentative arm around her, and she leaned into him, barely able to catch her breath between sobs.

"We'll get him," said Elliot, his voice firm but soft. "I'll get him. I promise."

Part 2.

"Lowell Harris," said Barba, sitting across from Olivia the next day. His voice grew low. "I know of him. Got out less than three months ago. And he did not die in the fire."

Her stomach sank. If there was anyone in the world she wanted to join William Lewis in the earth, it was him. She stared blankly, contemplating Harris running around somewhere in Manhattan, ready to come after her at any time.

A door clicked shut behind her, and she jumped. But Elliot came out of Noah's room, and she exhaled, remembering how nice it had been to lay in Elliot's arms last night, even if she only got an hour of sleep. "Liv, you okay?" said Barba.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Me and Harris have…history."

His eyes narrowed. "History? How?"

She glanced at Elliot. Even he didn't know the whole story. Probably the only one who did was Fin, who had saved her from that sordid stain in her life. "He…um, assaulted me once before." Elliot's hand came down swiftly on the kitchen table, and Olivia tried hard not to look at him, quickly adding, "But he didn't get away with it. He was imprisoned for a similar charge, against a teenage girl."

Barba only hesitated for a moment before he said, "Oh."

She ran her hands through her hair and stood from the couch, walking to the window to avoid eye contact with the nosy men in the room. "Is there any way you can lock him back up? I know the only crime he technically committed was soliciting a prostitute—"

"But it's enough to get him on a parole violation. He could go right back in." Barba paused, and Olivia could tell he was holding something back. Finally, he added, "But then you'd have to testify at his parole hearing. And they will question your history with him too, along with your claims of being held as a sex slave."

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "I'll do it." Turning to face him, she said, "I can't even imagine a world where I might run into Lowell Harris again on the streets." Elliot sat down on the couch and patted the empty spot next to him. She plunked down in it, allowing the comfort of his hand around her shoulders. She sighed and shook her head. "I have a hard time walking down the sidewalk as it is."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty

Part 1.

Olivia stared out the window of the taxi, her head heavy in her hand. "Liv?" said Elliot, reaching over to rest his hand on her back.

She barely noticed, still lost in memories of her conversation with Dr. Lindstrom. _It was too soon,_ he'd said.

 _It's not your fault_ , she'd replied _._ She really couldn't handle her own therapist's guilt over this. _I talked you into it._

 _But I knew going so deep into the memories would bring up the trauma too. I'm the therapist, and I failed you. I'm sorry, Olivia._

She really hadn't blamed him. If she hadn't been so pushy…

And now she had moments where she didn't want to be here, didn't want to live, once again. Dr. Lindstrom knew about them, and he kept close watch over her. She hadn't told Elliot. Instead, she shoved the destructive thoughts down, and tried to replace them with something other than memories of Lowell Harris and all the others.

"Liv?"

She blinked, and Elliot was holding the taxi door open, waiting for her to exit. "Sorry," she said, sliding out.

They met with Barba in his office. He leaned back against his desk and folded his arms. Olivia looked for any signs, good or bad, on his face, but he held his cards close. Barba always played on Barba's terms.

Finally, after sizing her up as well, he said, "Okay. We have a parole revocation hearing. Vice has charged Harris, so we need to go over your testimony." She resisted the urge to drop her face into her palm. "Are you absolutely sure you're willing to go through with this, Liv?"

Now she felt the urge to sit, and she plopped into one of his office chairs. "Yes. I want to do it. I want somebody to at least hear my story, whether they believe it or not."

Barba sat on the edge of his desk. Elliot fidgeted and paced by the door. Barba said, "They're going to make all the usual accusations. You wanted sex with him. You didn't think of asking for money until it was over—"

She clutched the chair's arms. "I didn't ask for money at all!"

Barba leaned forward. "This is what they're going to say, Olivia. You have to steel yourself, like you did with Lewis."

Elliot turned to look at Olivia. Everything that she had been through—the kidnapping and torture, the Russian Roulette—sometimes she forgot that he had missed it all. She nodded. "I know. I know."

But Barba didn't stop. "They're going to bring up the first time around, at Sealview. They're going to say you have a grudge against him."

She stared off into the distance. She had known it would be brutal. She had testified once before, against Lewis, and it nearly tore her apart then. But she had almost bought into the shameful narrative this time—that she was undeserving of justice, for the simple fact that she had been reduced to a sub-human slave.

Elliot spoke up for the first time. "Doesn't the fact that she's a Lieutenant in charge of SVU make her more credible?

Barba shook his head. "He was a Captain at Sealview."

Elliot balled his hands into fists. "Who was convicted of rape."

Barba didn't move. "Through Olivia's efforts. I read the transcripts. Her prior involvement makes it look even more like a vendetta."

Elliot looked like he was either going to punch a wall or sweep every item off the desk, but he didn't. "Doesn't matter," Olivia said. "I'm ready for whatever."

"That's what I was waiting to hear," said Barba. "We'll go over your testimony tomorrow."

Part 2.

As they walked by a deli near Barba's office, Elliot said, "Coffee?"

She didn't want to stop. She hadn't left her house in nearly a week and a half, unable to feel safe in public while Harris was still free. But she was with Elliot, and she didn't want to keep him from leading a normal life because of her own stupid insecurities. "Sure. But, get it to go?"

He squeezed her shoulder and nodded. As soon as they got in line to order, he said, "Just get mine black. I gotta hit the restroom."

And then he was gone. She began to congratulate herself on standing alone in a public place, but taking pride in something a twelve-year-old could do seemed ridiculous. Besides, she still felt compelled to scan the faces in the crowd.

Her eyes settled on one man sitting alone at a table, and chills travelled up her spine and settled in her neck. He looked just like the city counselor who had visited her in the hotel.

Olivia shuffled her feet and tried to look away, but her gaze kept returning to his pudgy nose and dodgy eyes, and now she was sure it was him. He didn't see her yet, and she couldn't stand the idea that he might, so she left the line and headed out the exit, shivering at a brisk strand of wind that blew right through her.

She would stand out here in the cold and wait for Elliot. She could not re-enter that deli. Occasionally, she peeked through the glass door to see if he was coming, or if the man was approaching the door. She closed her eyes and pulled her collar around her neck, trembling, the bitter wind and dread teaming up to chill her to the bone.

"Hey, Honey, you cold?" A tall guy dressed in a leather jacket, sagging pants and a nose ring stopped in front of her. "I'll keep you warm, okay? Come home with me—"

She recoiled as he reached for her, but once she felt his hand on her shoulder, she snapped. Her elbow came down on the crook of his arm, forcing it to fold, and her knuckles made contact with his nose at the same time that she stomped on his toes, causing him to bend over. She used his momentum to slam his face into her knee, and he staggered forward two steps. She elbowed him in the back of the head to knock him to the ground, and then she barraged him with kicks and didn't stop. She gritted her teeth, kicking him in the face, the torso, the crotch.

She could hear whimpering, but couldn't quite place where it was coming from, until someone pulled at her from behind. "Liv," said Elliot, his hands gripping her arms tightly and dragging her away from the man's still-moaning body. "Stop."

She heaved several large breaths, and then realized that her teeth were clenched together so tight that her neck muscles hurt. The man still lay on the ground, his face bloody and swollen. "Did I…?" she huffed. She looked at Elliot, shame heating her cheeks. "I'm sorry….I'm—"

She shook her head and broke through the crowd that had gathered, glancing back one time before she ran away. 


	21. Chapter 21

_**Comments:**_ _What I love about SVU is that there are so many fascinating characters to work with._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-One

Part 1.

Olivia wandered down the sidewalk with no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there, needed to get away from the scene she had caused and the damage she had done. Sirens and flashing lights blew by her, and she started to duck into an alley, but a hand clutched her shoulder. She spun around and nearly knocked the person to the ground, but he was prepared, and he blocked her.

Before she could panic, she saw it was Elliot grabbing her wrist. She yanked her arm away. "Leave me alone, Elliot!"

"What, so you can run? They're looking for you. Are you going to be a fugitive now?" She glared at him, but he didn't look as angry as he sounded. As she tried to catch her breath, he said, "He's not hurt. You can claim self-defense. Because that's what it was, right?"

Now she couldn't meet his gaze, and she looked away. "I went way above and beyond self-defense."

"Oh, I don't think so. And I don't think you heard me. He's not hurt, aside from a busted nose and a few bruises."

She inhaled the cold air deep into her lungs. "I don't think I can go down to the station right now. I can't handle being arrested."

He moved in closer to her, and she became wary that he might grab her and force her to go. But he said, "I don't think that'll be necessary. There are witnesses who saw him grab you first."

She covered her face with her hands. "I can't do this."

"I told you—"

"I mean, I can't handle _this._ How am I supposed to do…life, anything, when I can't even go out of my house?" Elliot just stared, and she wished he would stop. She didn't want a witness to her falling apart. "Do you know why I left the deli? The city councilman who had sex with me—"

"Who raped you—"

"He was in there!"

Elliot fell silent. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked away. But he stepped toward her, touching her arm. "Liv, I'm sorry. But what are the chances? I guess because we're so close to the courthouse—"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Anywhere I go, I'm going to be looking over my shoulder."

He let her stand in silence for a few moments, and then he said gently, "C'mon. Let's go make sure you don't get arrested."

Part 2.

"And then what happened?" said Barba, pacing across her living room floor in lawyerly fashion.

She took a deep breath from the chair where she sat, perfectly still. "Then…I was taken to an adjoining hotel room, and…he told me to take off my clothes."

Barba didn't look her in the eye, even though they both knew Harris' attorney would try to stare her down, as well as Harris himself. "And did you?"

"Yes." She shoved her hands in between her knees. "I did."

"And then?"

"Then…" She shook her head and swallowed back tears. The details were so hard, even with Barba. How was she going to do this in front of hostile witnesses? But she forced out the words anyway. "I was handcuffed to a bed, and forced to have sex with men for money for more than a week."

Barba glanced at her and then averted his eyes again. "And was Lowell Harris one of those men?"

Everything below her waist went numb. "He was."

His voice softened. "What did he do?"

"He…" She laced her fingers together and squeezed so hard that the circulation in her hands nearly cut off. "He forced himself on me. And he wasn't gentle."

She clenched her lips together, closing her eyes to dam the tears. "Do you need a moment, Olivia?"

She shook her head. "No." _Let me just get this over with._ She exhaled the next words in a hushed tone. "I, uh…I was bleeding so bad when he finished. I begged them to let me see a doctor, but—"

She brushed tears away from her cheeks, unable to keep talking for fear the flood of emotions bottled up in her chest would unloose and drown her. "Okay, I think that's enough for today," said Barba. "Let's just plan on meeting one more time, tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded, still afraid to open her eyes and witness the pity on his face. But she felt his touch on her shoulder, and she stood to show him out.

As she sniffled, he said, "You okay, Liv?"

She nodded again, reaching toward the door handle.

"Really? Are you _really_ okay? I don't mean just now, either."

Her hand froze on the handle for second before she turned it. "I'm okay."

"Alright, because I can stay with you until Elliot gets back if you want."

"No, it's okay, Barba. I promise I won't…" What she meant was, _kill myself._ What she said was, "Break down or anything."

He patted her back and said gently, "I'll see you tomorrow morning then. It'll be fine. I promise."

She shut the door, but she couldn't relax, even with Barba gone. Tomorrow the parole board would decide, based on her testimony, whether to lock Harris up once again. And all based on the word of someone who had a negative personal history with the defendant, someone who had just beaten up a stranger on the streets. And if the board decided not to revoke his parole, he would be pissed, and would probably seek revenge. She shivered.

Elliot had gone out to get them some food, leaving her alone with Barba to go over her testimony. She was grateful she hadn't had to recount the experience with Elliot in the room. It was hard enough with Barba, and she loved Elliot, but it wasn't exactly easy to share her most humiliating experiences with him.

Barba had been gone only a few minutes when her buzzer rang. She pressed the intercom button. "What did you forget?"

His voice came over the speaker. "My phone."

She buzzed him in the building and then paced, waiting for him to come back up. Maybe she shouldn't testify. Just seeing Barba made her nervous. How was she going to deal with the man who had assaulted her twice in her life sitting across from her? As she agitated over the hearing, she glanced around the room for his phone, but didn't spot it. A knock came at the door.

As soon as she opened it, the door flung back against her, hitting her hard enough to knock her off-balance, and she knew something was wrong. Barba stumbled in, Harris behind him, holding a gun to Barba's head. Harris slammed the door shut behind him without looking at it, his glare landing on Olivia before she could wrap her mind around what was happening. "Don't move," he said, holding Barba close, the gun nestled against his forehead. Barba's wide eyes told her how terrified and sorry he was simultaneously. "Or your friend here gets it first."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Comments:**_ _I could go so many places with this. But here's what I chose. I hope you enjoy._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Harris burst into her home like a whirlwind, his presence in her living reminding her that her carelessness had allowed a vicious criminal to invade her space for the second time in history. Harris pushed Barba at her, and then pointed the gun at her, remaining more than an arm's length away to prevent her from ever knocking the gun out of his hands. She raised her hands, spreading her fingers wide in a desperate attempt to calm him. Noah was in the other room, and she had to do whatever she could to protect him.

"I've had nothing but problems since I laid eyes on you," he snarled.

She had been in this position one too many times, and she knew her best bet was to engage him, try to talk him down, although it was a longshot. "Harris—"

"Shut up!" His solid jaw clenched, angry lines forming in his forehead. "I'm not here to talk."

"Why are you here then?" said Barba, his voice shaking.

Harris swung the gun in his direction and bellowed, "I said shut up, lawyer. What do you _think_ I'm here for?" Spittle flew from his lips. "I spent years in hell because of this woman. I'm not going to let it happen again."

Olivia quickly did some mental calculations. He was here to kill her and Barba—she knew that, so she only risked being taken out a few seconds earlier if she spoke. "What, so you're just going to shoot an NYPD detective and an ADA right here in my apartment? You'll never get away with it."

"I said _shut up_ , bitch. Your next words will be your last. I don't have to explain myself to you!" A gurgle came from the other room, and Olivia closed her eyes and clenched her lips. "What's that?" said Harris.

 _Noah._ "It's…it's the TV." But then Noah gave out a little cry and said, "Mommy."

"A kid? You have a kid?" Harris glanced toward the bedroom, but then his glare snapped back to her. "Slowly, slowly, come with me."

"No," she whispered. _Oh God, no._

"I said go! Or your kid will be the first to go."

She and Barba shuffled toward Noah's bedroom, Harris following with the gun stiffly trained on them.

Once she saw Noah's fearful eyes, she scrambled to him and swept him up from his crib, as if holding him would be enough to protect him from this psycho with a gun. "Shh…it's okay, Noah."

"Does he talk?" Harris demanded.

Olivia pulled Noah's head to her shoulder so he wouldn't see the gun pointing straight at him. "No," she said, her voice cracking. She lied, though. He could talk quite well, but the less he could speak, the less Harris would worry about him being a witness. "He only knows a few words. Please don't hurt him."

Harris growled and ran his free hand through his hair. "Noah," he said. Noah turned his head, and Olivia's face went numb. Now that he had Noah's attention, Harris said, "How old are you, Noah?"

There were so many things Noah could say right now to get both of them instantly killed.

 _I three._

 _Who dat?_

 _Dat man has a gun, Mommy._ That's all it would take for the fatal shot.

Instead, he buried his head in her shoulder again, apparently appreciating the danger of the situation on some level. She gripped the back of his head, pulling him into her, in case it was the last time.

"Please," she pleaded to Harris. "He won't say anything. He doesn't know—"

"Shut up! Put him down."

Barba tried to help. "He really doesn't know anything, Harris. You gonna murder a helpless child now? That's beneath even you."

"Shut it! Put him down."

Olivia slowly lowered him into his crib, and he reached his arms out to her and fussed. "Mama mama ma!"

She choked up looking into his startled eyes. "It's going to be okay," she said quietly, wiping a tear from her own face. "You're a good boy. Mommy loves you."

"Now turn around," said Harris. She closed her eyes and complied. "Get down on your knees. And open your damn eyes! I want to see your soul leave when I kill you."

She opened her eyes to stare down her assassin. "Please," she mumbled. "Not in front of my son."

"On your knees," he said resolutely.

Her knees practically buckled as she lowered herself to kneeling. "Noah, look at your duckies," she said, referring to the mobile that hung over his bed.

He looked her dead in the eye, and she knew he was ready. "Put your hands on your head."

Her hands shook so bad that she could barely get her fingers to lock together on top of her head. Her whole body trembled, and she blurted out, "Barba, you're a good person. I'm glad I knew you. Noah, Mommy loves you."

Noah started to cry, and she did too. She stared at the barrel of the gun, flinching in anticipation, wondering when the shot was going to go off, and whether she would feel anything, and what waited for her on the other side.

"It's going to be okay, Liv," said Barba, his voice breaking in desperation. "You're going to—"

The shot boomed, the noise filling the room.

Harris fell to the floor, and Noah's screams reaching her grateful ears. She sat on the floor, unmoving, unblinking, wondering what had happened, watching Harris' body twitch.

Elliot's voice snapped her out of her stupor, if only for a second. "Liv…"

He was on her left now, and Barba on her right, and each one of them held onto one of her arms. "I'm…I'm not hurt," she said, knowing full well that she was far from okay, but too shocked to put her real state into words.

Elliot pawed at her, searching for wounds while she stared blankly at Harris' body, noting that he had stopped moving after all the life had left him. "Noah," she said, hearing his cries again. She started to stand but her legs collapsed under her. "Give me Noah."

Elliot disappeared from her side, and then Noah was in her arms, and she squeezed him until he began to wriggle free. "Noah, stay here," she said, not wanting him to venture off to the dead man in the middle of the floor.

"I'll take him in the other room," said Barba, and he lifted the boy from her arms.

She barely noticed, and sat shivering as Elliot stood and left her side. All she could do was stare at Harris' body, his gun resting a few inches from his lifeless hand. She was so cold, so alone, shivering so hard that her teeth chattered.

And then Elliot was next to her again, laying a blanket over her back. "C'mon," he said. "Let's get you out of here."

He helped her onto wobbly legs and led her into the living room, where Barba was holding Noah, soothing him with a gentle voice, "Mommy's okay. See, there she is."

Elliot guided her to the couch, and she sat down mechanically. Elliot sat next to her, taking her hands in his own. "I called it in. They're on their way."

He stared at the side of her face. She could barely feel his hands on hers, could hardly feel anything. Suddenly she felt very weak, so tired she couldn't sit anymore, so she leaned back against the couch. Her breath came out in gasps, and she wished she could breathe better. "I thought—when your gun went off—I thought it was his."

He put his arm around her and squeezed. "You're alright, Liv. It's all over. Take deep breaths, slow it down."

She inhaled deeply, and the dizziness in her brain began to lessen. Her voice cracked. "I thought I wanted to die. But I want to live, El." She nodded. "I want to live."

"That's good, Liv." He patted her shoulder, and then touched her neck. "You have some blood…"

"It's not mine."

"I know." He stood. "Let me get a washcloth and clean you off."

Barba said, "Better leave it until CSI gets here."

Elliot spun to face him. "Are you kidding me? I don't give a shit if I'm interfering with the crime scene. You know what happened. There's no reason for her to wait around with that asshole's blood all over her."

He went to get the towel, and she pulled the blanket tight around her. Barba was standing now, staring at nothing. "Barba," she said, but he didn't move. "Barba."

"Huh?" he said, his glazed eyes snapping back to her.

"You okay?"

"Y-yeah," he said, finding a chair to sit in now.

"Barba?"

He looked like a zombie, and she wondered if he was listening to a word she said. "Yeah, Liv?"

"Thank you."

Now he glowered at her. "For what? Leading a killer into your house?"

Her weak voice grew even softer. "You didn't have a choice."

He looked down at his hands. "I could've taken a bullet."

"You were buying time. Anyone would've done the same."

"Not you."

She only hesitated for a second. "Hey. You were brave back there. Trying to save my baby boy." They both watched Noah playing with a pull toy. "That means everything to me. Thank you for…being a friend."

He came over and sat down next to her so he could squeeze her. "I couldn't have a better friend than you."

Elliot came back and found the spot on her neck. She closed her eyes at the warmth in his touch as he dabbed the damp washcloth against her skin. Then he inspected her closely, and found two other spots to clean. "Thank you," she murmured.

He took her hands in his again. "You're so cold. Let me…" He rubbed her hands to warm them, and then placed a hand on her back. "Your heart is pounding. Take more deep breaths."

She looked into his eyes. How had she not noticed during their time together the way he gazed at her with such tenderness? How could she overlook the care he had taken of her, through all her ordeals? She knew she'd been traumatized, but she also missed out, letting her own misery blind her to his admiration and affection and loyalty.

He stared at her. "What-?"

She didn't wait for the rest of the question, instead throwing herself against him, squeezing him so hard that he lightly groaned. But he didn't complain, just encircled her with his arms and stroked her hair. "You've done so much for me," she muttered into his chest. She meant to say, _Thank you._ Instead, she said, "I love you, El."

He kissed the top of her head, and she nestled into his neck. "I love you too, Liv." She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Her pulse gradually began to slow with his grasp, and he said, "You are my world. I'd do anything to keep you here with me."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Comments:**_ _Sorry sorry sorry. The holidays were crazy. But here's the next chapter, and it should be called Life Will Always Kick You When You're Down._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Part 1.

"How are you doing today, Olivia?"

Her smile was brief, but it lingered on inside her. And then it disappeared, when she remembered the darkness that sometimes overcrowded the fleeting light, when she wasn't careful. "I'm…I'm actually pretty good."

"Is that so?" When he smiled, the dimples made his cheeks look like apples. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah. Thanks." She rubbed her palms on her knees. "There's still the anxiety, of course…"

"Of course. But…something's changed?"

"Yeah, I—" She shook her head. It was so hard to admit any of this, even to her trusted counselor. After all, he was a man. "I was having trouble trusting anyone…men, that is." She pushed back a chunk of her hair from her eyes. "But then Elliot…I thought, he's a man, and I trust him."

She looked up. Dr. Lindstrom was attempting to maintain the right balance of joyful support and serious contemplation. "And then I realized…I trust you too."

She tried to keep the tears from bunching up in her eyes, but when she saw them crowding the corners of his too, there was no stopping the flow. "And there's others too—Fin. Carisi. Barba."

"There are men who would never hurt you."

"Yes. And they help me feel…safe."

Part 2.

They did help her feel safe—safer, but not whole. She still questioned her own worth on a daily basis. What good could she be for anyone else when she couldn't get her own life back in order? She had not gone back to work yet, and even though everyone told her that was normal and to be expected, she was beginning to wonder—would she ever go back to work at all?

Always in the past, when something traumatic had happened in her life, she'd thrown herself into her work, and it helped take her mind off the invasive memories.

This time, she was afraid anything she saw at work would throw her right back into that hotel room. Going back to work was too much of a risk, and she wasn't going to do it until she was absolutely sure she was ready.

But sitting around in her own apartment made her feel useless, like her life had been a waste. She knew the statistics—how many years she'd worked, how many rapists she'd put away, how many victims she'd helped. But she couldn't help them right now, and worse, her inability to resume "normal activities" just went to show the world that women _could_ be victimized into helplessness.

But just two weeks after Harris tried to wipe out her life, she got a frantic phone call from Rylee's mother. "Lieutenant, please come, quick. I didn't want to call the police, because I don't want her to get shot. But Rylee's got a gun, and she's threatening to kill herself."

The blood drained from Olivia's face. She knew how serious those kinds of threats were. "I'll be right there."

Elliot must have noticed the change in her face after the phone call. "Liv, what is it?"

"Rylee. She's got a gun. She's threatening to—"

"Liv." Elliot's voice stayed gentle. "I know you want to help her, but maybe we should let the cops—"

"No. Absolutely not. She needs someone who understands, someone who knows what she's going through."

Elliot waited several beats. "Alright. Let's go. But be careful, Liv."

Part 3.

There was no time to go to the station and pick up bullet-proof vests, and Elliot fretted over Olivia before she went in the house. "Don't get in her line of sight. She's unpredictable in this state of mind."

Olivia held up a hand. "I know what I'm doing, Elliot. I've done this a few times, remember?"

"Okay. I know. Just…" He touched her face to get her attention. "Just be careful, Liv."

"I will, El. I promise."

And then she went in the house—unarmed, unprotected.

Rylee was in her room, and Olivia passed her mother on the way upstairs. "Is she—"

"She's still got the gun," said her mother. "She's got it to her head. Please, help her."

Olivia paused in Rylee's doorway and held her hands in the air. "Rylee, it's me, Olivia. I'm not armed."

Rylee had her gun trained on her own temple, a pained expression wrinkling her face. "Don't come in here, Olivia. I don't want you to see this…"

Olivia didn't come any further into the room, but she didn't retreat, either. "So, you have your mind made up, huh?"

Rylee closed her eyes. Olivia braced herself, in case the gun went off while she was trying to talk the girl down. "Can we talk for a second, before you go through with it?"

As much as it would tear her up to see the girl's head explode, Olivia forced herself to look at Rylee. "You know, I did exactly what you're doing, just a few weeks ago."

The girl opened her eyes, her gaze finding Olivia. "Really? So you know…"

"Yeah. I know. I know exactly how tortured you are right now. How little sleep you're getting, how the memories haunt you. How little you feel like your life matters. You probably feel like any moment, someone's going to hurt you again."

A tear drifted down the girl's cheek, and Olivia saw that as a victory, so she kept going while she had momentum. "But you know what I also know?"

Rylee shook her head against the barrel of the gun. Olivia took two steps closer. "I know that it gets better. And I know that you have people who love you, people who you can count on not to hurt you, people who will keep you safe."

Rylee sniffled uncontrollably, and her grip on the gun seemed to relax a bit. Olivia could feel wisdom coursing through her own veins, and now she remembered. This was her purpose. She couldn't help people like Rylee, couldn't be completely sincere, without going through the horrors she had experienced.

Rylee started to lower her gun, taking in air in deep gulps. "You promise it gets better, Olivia?"

"I promise," Olivia whispered.

Now the gun lowered even more. Olivia ventured into her room now, and almost had her hand on the gun to take it away.

Elliot's voice called out behind her. "Is it safe?"

Olivia was slowly advancing her hand to the gun, and she got a few fingers on it when, to her horror, it raised again with Rylee's straightening arms. A blast caused Olivia to jump out of her skin, and then she listened to the ringing in her ears, wondering what just happened.

Rylee screamed, and then shouted. "Oh my God! I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"

Olivia wasn't hurt, so she didn't understand what Rylee was talking about at first. Then she turned around, and Elliot was on the floor. Why was he on the floor? _No…_

She forgot everything and ran to him. A red circle stained his chest, almost in the center. She lowered herself to him and slammed her hands onto his wound, pressing down as hard as she could. "Elliot," she said, her voice panicked. And then she lied, straight into his vacant eyes. "You're going to be okay."

 _Please don't leave me…please…._


	24. Chapter 24

_**Comments:**_ _Nobody ever give that girl a gun again._

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-Four

Part 1.

When the paramedics took over, Olivia leaned in close to Elliot's ear and whispered, "You can't leave me. Not you, El. I need you."

They pushed her out of the way, and she stood, wobbly on her feet. Fin showed up at the door, and he rushed to her and held her steady. "I'll give you a ride to the hospital."

"No, I need to ride with him," she cried out.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "You need to let them do their job."

"No—"

She struggled against Fin's hold, but he gripped her tight enough to keep her from moving while the paramedics left with Elliot. "Liv," he said gently, and then nodded toward the door. "I think you should talk to Rylee."

She ran a hand through her hair and paced. What if he died on the way to the hospital? She wouldn't be there….

"Liv—"

She jerked her head to face him. "What am I supposed to say to her?"

Fin looked down. "Maybe tell her you don't hate her." He met her stare now. "So she doesn't, you know…"

She wiped tears from her cheeks. How could she talk to anyone right now? But he was right—she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let Rylee's guilt cut her life short.

She went out to look for the girl, and found her in the back yard. "Rylee…"

The girl wouldn't face her, but Olivia swallowed her grief and kept on. "Rylee, it's not your fault."

Rylee kicked at the dirt. Choking up, she said, "I killed two innocent men."

"We don't know that yet." Olivia was so raw, she couldn't touch the girl. But she said, "You have PTSD. You're going to overreact. I've been through it, I know."

The girl sobbed while Olivia watched. Finally, her compassion made it through her injured psyche, and she rubbed the girl's back. "It's going to be okay."

Part 2.

Olivia tracked down Elliot after Fin drove her to the hospital, but she wouldn't get to see him yet. And maybe never again.

The nurse gave her the mixed news—he was still alive, barely hanging on, but he was in surgery. The bullet had gone right next to his heart and punctured a lung, and it was going to be touch and go for awhile. He could die in surgery, and if he didn't, lots of other complications waited to take him.

The nurse left Olivia and Fin in the waiting room, and Olivia couldn't stand being with all these other people anymore. She found a small room with a couple of snack machines in it, and she hid there so she could think. She paced, her fingers combing relentlessly through her hair. "Dammit," she said, hot tears burning her cheeks. "God dammit."

Fin found her and stood in the doorway. "Liv, you—"

She kicked a vending machine before he could finish. "God dammit," she said, kicks punctuating every syllable.

Fin moved in to stop her. "Liv—"

She spun to face him. "Don't, Fin—"

He tried to gently touch her shoulders, but she swatted his hands away, yelling, "Leave me alone, Fin!"

"Liv, calm down." But he didn't dare touch her again.

She turned back to the vending machine and wreaked her worst vengeance on it, grunting while alternately pounding it with her fists and her feet, until a crack formed in the plexiglass front. Fin moved in. "C'mon, Liv. Stop," he yelled.

He grabbed her arms from behind, and she kicked both her feet up to get one last jab at the machine. She let out battle cry with that last kick, a sort of angry yell. Fin dragged her away from behind.

He got her out in the hallway, and people were staring, but Olivia barely noticed and didn't care. Angry tears flew off her face, sprinkling the hallway. "Why?" she cried to nobody in particular. She looked up at the ceiling. "Why do you take everything from me?! What did I do to deserve this?"

She still kicked her feet out in anger, and she screamed the words so vehemently that her face hurt, and she could feel the veins about to burst in her forehead. She yelled so hard that spittle flew from her mouth, and the thoughts muddled in her mind. But she kept on. "Why, why, why? Every fucking time I start to build a fucking life—"

Her foot flew up so high that it landed on a glass door nearby, and now Fin yelled at her, "Stop! Liv, just stop!" He dragged her to the center of the waiting room so she couldn't break anything, and then he said to onlookers who stood too close, "Get back. Just get outta here."

She wriggled in his arms, her feet still flying. Security guards came running. "Calm down, Liv," said Fin, much softer this time.

With the guards approaching, her senses started to return, and she slowed her resistance. Fin said gently in her ear, "You calmed down yet?"

She stopped struggling and nodded. "I'm okay, Fin. Let me go."

"Sorry, Liv. Can't do that yet. I gotta be sure."

She hung her head in resignation. Fin loosened his grip. The guards were upon her, but Fin held them back with the flash of his badge. He said, "NYPD. Everything's fine here. We're good."

She would have to talk to security, explain her actions, offer to pay for the damage. But she couldn't deal with that right now. As soon as Fin let go of her arms, she spun to face him and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Fin."

He put his arms around her. He was never the touchy-feely type, but this one time, he made an exception for her. Letting go of everyone else's opinions about her, she hid her face in his jacket and let loose a flood of tears. If all these bystanders wanted a show, let them witness the bottomless depths of her grief.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-Five

Part 1.

Elliot came out of surgery, but he wouldn't wake up. At five minutes after midnight, a nurse let Olivia in to see him. She tentatively entered the room, tip-toeing as if any noise might send him into cardiac arrest. When she got close enough to see his face in the dimmed lighting of the ICU room, she covered her mouth and held back tears the best she could. "Oh, Elliot," she said through closed fingers.

Tubes and wires and IV lines protruded from his body, forming a web that threatened to ensnare any outside invaders. Now she thought she knew how he must have felt when she was in this same position, and she felt new empathy for him.

She stared at his pale, unmoving eyelids for a while, willing them to open. When they didn't, she leaned in, carefully maneuvering all the medical connections, easing her head down on an unencumbered shoulder. And then she closed her eyes and savored the warmth of his still-breathing body underneath her. He may not live, but she was so grateful that he was still alive at this moment.

She stayed that way for so long that she almost fell asleep. But she knew they would kick her out of here at any moment, and she felt she should say what she needed to say, in case these were the last words she spoke to him.

She stared at his frozen face and the tube crammed into his mouth, thankful for the _whoosh_ of the machine that breathed for him. "Elliot, I…" She brought her hand up to her mouth again, giving herself a few extra seconds to recover from choking up. She found his hand and held it. "Now that I know what this feels like, I'm sorry, El. I don't know how I could have tried to take my own life, knowing how devastated you would be." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Plus, I know I've been a general pain in the ass the last few months, and I'm sorry for that too. But you've helped me so much, El. You have no idea. And now, you may never find out…"

She shook her head, stopping before a flood overtook her. And then the nurse interrupted her visit. "Ms. Benson, we need to let him rest now."

Liv nodded, staring at Elliot's face, hard, in case it was the last time. She whispered, "I love you, Elliot."

And then she turned and left.

Part 2.

Pain sometimes lacks words, and that's what Olivia experienced in the waiting room. She found herself unable to speak once again, just like when Tucker left her and this world behind. Fortunately, she didn't have to say anything, because there were people there who cared about her.

Fin greeted her first, and she fell into his arms for the second time this night. If she was in her right mind, she would be humiliated about how she had acted earlier, and she wouldn't be able to meet his gaze. But this was Fin, and he felt as comfortable as an old pair of socks. He didn't have to say anything to her either, just gripped her tight and allowed her to fall into his presence.

When she opened her eyes and stepped away, Amanda came forward from the pack, and Olivia appreciated that the woman was able to put aside her lower rank to comfort her superior. Amanda touched Olivia's arm and said, "I'm sorry, Liv. If there's anything I can do…"

Olivia nodded and mouthed the words, "Thank you."

Carisi came and stood next to Amanda. "Seriously, Liv, if you ever want a break from Noah—"

"Thanks, Sonny, Lucy's watching him now."

"I know, but if you ever need more time, I'm there."

She leaned in and hugged him, and he jolted in surprise. "Thank you, Carisi."

She pulled away, and then she saw Barba in the doorway, his coat waving around his legs. He went to her and held her hands. Casting shredded glances around him, he scattered everyone else with his looks, and they dispersed. Now he looked at her exclusively, and for once, he talked soft and deliberately instead of fast and intense. "Liv. How are you holding up?"

Suddenly feeling embarrassed by her red eyes and puffy cheeks, she glanced away, still gripping his hands tight. "I'm just…I'm holding on."

He squeezed her fingers. "You should go home and get some rest."

"No." She shook her head vigorously. "What if…what if something happens? I need to be here."

"Okay," he said, almost as a question. "At least let me stay here with you. You shouldn't be alone right now."

She pulled away from him. "No, it's fine, Barba. You should go home."

"No way." She tried not to look at his pity-filled eyes. "I'm staying."

She sat down and nestled her hands between her knees. "Okay, but I'll probably be awake all night."

He sat down right next to her, and she didn't look at him, but his presence warmed the space between them.

Part 3.

She did drift off, despite her protestations to Barba, and now she was struggling with something on top of her. She fought off the weight on her body, kicking and pushing and clawing. Something shook her, and she clawed harder, trying to keep the man from hurting her anymore, but he shook her harder, and his weight threatened to crush her.

"Liv, wake up."

She couldn't breathe, and she began to panic, simultaneously scratching and thrashing, anything to ease the suffocation.

"Liv." The voice didn't match the motions of the body on her, and the cognitive dissidence began to unravel her nightmare. The pain in her belly transformed to a stinging in her cheeks, and she opened her eyes and was greeted by the lines in Barba's forehead. "Liv, wake up."

"I'm awake," she sputtered. Something gripped her arms, and she struggled until she realized Barba was the one holding her. "What's—"

As the clarity of the waking world returned to her, the pain in her face didn't disappear with the nightmare, and she now knew that it was real. She stopped trying to fight Barba, and he let go of her hands so he could touch the scratches on her cheeks. She mumbled, "What…what happened, Barba?"

His eyes wide, he looked as if he had just seen a horror movie. "You were dreaming. You scratched up your face."

She touched the lines on her cheeks to confirm what he had said. She had been fighting off invisible demons, but the damage was done to herself. "Let me go get a nurse, see if we can get a wet cloth," said Barba, worry still radiating from his eyes.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, unable to even cry. _Elliot, how am I going to do this without you? Please be okay…_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Comments:**_

 **Funhouse**

Chapter Twenty-Six

Part 1.

Barba returned with a wet washcloth and some antibacterial cream a nurse had given him, and proceeded to take care of Olivia like a mother would. She shuddered and tried to act collected as he dabbed medicine on her face.

Still squatting, he paused when she winced. "You okay, Liv?"

She tightened her lips and nodded. And then he finished doctoring her while she fought back tears.

"Barba?" He stopped for a second. "I—I just want to thank you. For, you know, being here for me."

"Of course," he said softly.

"I don't just mean tonight, either." His gaze moved from her cheeks so he could look her in the eyes. Now that she had his full attention, she continued, her voice shaking and small. "You have no idea how hard it's been for me to trust…men, after what happened."

He half-smiled and dabbed at her face a few more times before staring into her eyes again. "I'm not the only one who would do just about anything to help you. You have lots of other men in your life who would put their lives on the line to protect yours, you know."

"I know. But I wanted to thank you for being one of them. Without people like you, I might never leave the house again."

She smiled sheepishly at him, and he returned the gesture and gripped her hand. "Hey, I'll be here for you no matter what happens, okay? Don't ever give up."

 _Even if he dies_. She knew what he meant, and her face muscles scrunched up involuntarily. He leaned in to hug her, and she accepted it. His arms around her helped keep her heart from falling into the deep pit of her stomach and living there forever. He rubbed her back, and she started to feel drowsy again.

But she wouldn't be falling back asleep again, because the nurse appeared in the doorway. "He's awake," she said. "You can come visit for just a few minutes."

Part 2.

Olivia stood tentatively in the doorway. She could never forget that Dodds had lived at first, too. So if she learned one thing from that experience, it was to appreciate every moment you have with a person, and never take another breath for granted.

His eyes were still closed, and she grasped the doorframe as if it were the only thing holding her up. Then she shuddered and forced herself to take a few more steps in his direction. She got to the edge of the bed before she saw any signs that he wasn't comatose.

He moaned a little, and she grasped his arm. "Don't try to talk, Elliot." She knew from experience that if he fought the machine, he might panic from the lack of control. "Don't even try to breathe. Let the ventilator do it for you."

He opened his groggy eyes, and she sighed heavily to see those deep blue eyes. He wriggled a little, and she squeezed his arm until he settled his head back into the pillow. And then his eyes relaxed, and she had a good feeling that he realized where he was and what was going on. She stroked his hair and said, "It's okay, El. You're going to be fine."

But there were no guarantees that she was telling the truth. He could still disappear from her life with a simple blood clot or infection or uncontrolled internal bleeding. She wasn't a doctor, but she had personally witnessed several ways death could surprise you, even when everything appeared to be going in your favor.

She stared into his weary eyes like it was the last time, just in case it was. Then she leaned forward and kissed his forehead and said, "Rest, El. You should rest."

With that, he closed his eyes again. But she sat next to him and kept vigilant watch over the thin line of life that connected her to Elliot.

Part 3.

Fin and Barba kept watch over her after they kicked her out of his room and into the waiting room. Meanwhile, she kept watch over his doorway, willing him to keep living. She turned to Barba, who held her hand. Fin perked up from his drowsy state where his eyes barely hung open. She glanced at Barba, and then Fin. "The world is evil, for sure. One-hundred percent. These last few months have proven nothing, if that." Barba squeezed her hand. "And yet, there are beacons of light out there. Elliot was one, and his light might soon be gone—"

Barba squirmed. "But he's not—"

"It's okay," said Olivia, her eyes firmly locking on his. "I thought Elliot was my only hope, my only proof of good in this world. I was putting all my faith in him. But now I realize…there are other lights…"

Barba's eyes softened, and she knew he understood. She looked at Fin, and his hidden smile exposed itself in his cheeks. "You know you're the brightest light around, right, Liv?" he said.

She looked down at her shoes. "Used to be." She smirked. "It may be too late for me now."

Barba touched her shoulder. "It's never too late."

She smiled, and then a nurse interrupted their philosophical debate. "He's stable."

Olivia sighed out a week's worth of air. "Thank God."

Fin laughed. "Of course he's stable. It's his name."

The nurse didn't even crack a smile. "You can come in and visit with him for a while. We're getting ready to take out the ventilator."

Barba looked at Olivia. "You go. We'll wait out here for a while."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Part 4.

She sleepily stumbled in just as they removed the tube from his throat. When they finished, and all the nurses had backed away, she went to him and rested her hand on his chest, feeling his faint heartbeat. He opened his heavy eyelids at her touch.

She smiled at him. He opened his mouth, and she put a finger to his lips. "Shh. Save your energy." Touching his forehead lightly, she smoothed the creases in his forehead. "You'll be alright now."

He lifted a shaky arm, and she almost stopped him, but before she could, he grabbed her wrist. She held his hand, accepting his tender touch. And then she stooped forward and kissed him on his forehead. Leaning down to whisper into his ear, she said, "You had me worried." Pulling back so she could see his living, sparkling eyes, she said, "I love you, El."

His voice too hoarse to say it back to her, he mouthed the words instead, and then he reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek before collapsing from exhaustion.


End file.
